I am always intrigued with how the making of art challenges everything I know about myself.  Perhaps you find this to be true for yourself. I have been stuck on painting pears and lemons for awhile now and was reading a book by a fellow who says we are all living out a pattern set in us from a young age and that we might be living quite unconsciously as we age.  

He challenged his readers to start out his "course" by deciding if we were going to take him seriously or just accumulate his wisdoms on a notebook and then move on in our habitual ways.  The way we could show our commitment, mainly to ourselves, would be to take an action, right or wrong, that we had been avoiding, fearing, escaping, denying for some time and that we then would have greater personal involvement in our ability to create.  

So here, this image, is my act of commitment to becoming a stronger creator.  I painted this about 4 years ago in a very short afternoon, after I had spend a long year writing about my early life.  After the writing exercise - with a wonderful coach assisting - I decided I would not release my writings in any form. I felt I understood what happened to me and that I could move on with that broader understanding.  I felt more peace.

But then I saw the work of William Wray, a California painter of glorious abstract works among other things, including somewhat abstract paintings of  fires, which captured my imagination. One of a night scene, sun already down, and the top of the light post is afire, lighting the street scene.  Others of busses burning and buildings.  I remembered my painting teacher once painted a gigantic whole victorian mirrored dresser alight!  I collectively thought OH MY.  

And then, perhaps months after first seeing these fiery conceptions in action, I painted this painting.  It is of the house where I grew up, the maple tree on the garage side, the station wagon of family trips in the drive.  And me, in the front bedroom over the dining room, afire.  I have not named it.  

I had cut the painting out of the stretchers soon after I painted it as I decided then I would never show it. It still languishes - all rolled up - on the top of my studio work table, hidden from sight and mind.  Until now. I have committed myself to courage of creation.  So I show this painting to you as my commitment to my creative growth.  It is the most personal painting I have ever made.

I want to make art that is truly creative and also beautiful.  I wonder: have I been embarrassed by my strong feelings, by the things that happened to me?  Have I made myself invisible?  I have strongly felt I should never own what happened, admit to them, perhaps having been blamed for creating them, afraid I would be defined by the abuse and misuse?, or that I was not worthy of care and protection?   Probably all those things.  And likely more.  These feelings must stand in my way of bold creation.

But the journey is beginning and I think I will learn a lot about how to be a really creative creator!  I invite you along, and so you know, my autumn reports will be sporadic as I will be away painting in the Flinders Ranges for a bit.  Thank you.