That Time I Tried Art

 I like expression, exploration, BOLD, daring colors, uninhibited freedom, shapes, lines - clean and soft, textures, patterns, contrast. I like to think, to put words on my feelings...to find a way to uncage my soul. I often dream of being an artist. "Here's what I'd paint if I could," I say to myself. And when I try it, it looks awful, so I keep the artist part of me in my imagination. Very rarely I give it an actual attempt. What comes forth is rather ghastly, but the process was cathartic, so I consider it a success.

Knowing I lack skill, I move towards the abstract; a way to simplify the tumult that seeks dissipation. I dig through the stuff: a canvas, kids' art kit, scissors, comb, a random plastic cup left on the table, craft tape. I squeeze all the colors onto the palette and begin with circles. I never know which colors will strike my fancy. Better to have all the colors squeezed out so I can see them on the plate. Just having the options brings its own comfort, somehow. I give up on circles. I need lines. Hard. Firm. Bold. I go back to circles. Am I more circle or line? I can't tell. I end up with something crazy and weird. "Give it a name," I tell myself. 

"No Rhyme or Reason." "How's that?" I wonder. Oh the discussions I have in my head!

I toss out my first idea. It has both rhyme and reason. I can't escape that I still want structure, even if the lines are messy and uneven. "How about: 'Bubbling Rage'?" my creative word-self offers up. The circles, both opaque and cosmic, seem to each represent one part of me that is trapped within. They float, partly caged, partly free, ready to emerge in their own good time. There are breaks between the bars; the cage will never hold them completely. 

Behind them lie pathways I once tried. There are murky parts, bold parts, confused parts...just like me. I'll call it: 

Through a Glass Darkly.

It fits my life, I think.

Maybe I'll try art again someday.

But for today, this is enough.