I’m relaxing after my walk, wondering if it may continue to rain today. It looks like it might. I’m thinking about the weekend, mostly quite a nice one, spent in the good company of my Traveling Partner. Father’s Day was Sunday, and I even managed to surprise him with a gift (that he also liked).

The weekend was interesting in another way. Chosen changes. Change is, and no amount of running from it (or insisting on standing still) will change that. Sometimes what makes the most sense is to choose change. It’s a useful way of guiding my journey in life.

Here’s an example; I am frankly pretty “over” my current smartphone. It’s an older one, still quite functional but becoming irritatingly “uncooperative” and vexing with each new update by my carrier or the manufacturer. (I get tired of having to go back and turn off a bunch of bullshit and bloatware every time there’s an update, too.) My Traveling Partner pointed out I’m perhaps overdue to move on to a newer (and not carrier-locked) device.

My current smartphone is “only” 5 years old… but that’s also pre-pandemic, 4 employers, and two addresses ago. lol In terms of technology, that’s a long time. We shopped together, talked about the options, and I picked out a replacement. It’ll arrive in a few days and then I can “move out” of this phone that is vexing me so often and move on to being vexed differently with a new one. lol I’m grateful to have my Traveling Partner’s expertise and help with this one; it’s the sort of change that really fucks with me in a multitude of little ways.

Another example of choosing change with self-care and personal growth in mind? Artistically I have been feeling a bit stalled and struggling to “find my voice” after losing my Dear Friend this year. I didn’t have an understanding of how grief would affect me creatively (this time), nor did I anticipate the ways my Traveling Partner’s injury might affect my comfort with being “distracted by” the desire to paint. I find myself unable to begin new work, too aware that he may need my help any time (acrylic paint dries quickly and I tend to “work wet”). Unable to finish old work, because it brings to mind interrupted conversations with my Dear Friend that now can never be resumed.

I just can’t get going “as things are”… and the more I thought about it, the more significant the medium I tend to favor seemed to be. I’ve worked primarily in acrylics for about 20 years. What if I could work slower… oil paints? No, too slow. Watercolor?Maybe…but… too wet? What if I could work slower without “working wet” at all…? Something I could easily step away from and come back to… I found myself also considering size. I generally work with canvases that are large-ish… not huge, but often “over mantelpiece” or “behind the couch” sizes… I had begun to work much smaller in recent years (a combination of convenience and physical limitations). I never replaced my big easel when it finally failed me. I rarely used it anymore. Large work on paper never suited me…but I started as a watercolor artist, working on paper, as a teenager. Is it time to scale back and return to older ways? I feel hungry for something new.

Continuing to reflect on what I’ve been doing artistically, what has inspired me recently, and what is most physically comfortable at this stage in my life, I found myself considering a big change… a change of medium. (That’s a bigger deal than I know how to communicate, and will come with a potentially very steep learning curve.) Pastels. That’s the “big reveal”, I’m planning to try pastels, and may return to working exclusively on paper (less storage space needed for completed work, too). It’s an exciting thing to contemplate.

I find myself in an interestingly “in between moment”, standing poised between who I’ve been and who I may become, at least artistically. It’s less a crossroad in life than a sharp bend in the path in front of me, beyond which I can’t at all see what is ahead. I’m okay with the uncertainty and the unknowns. I’m excited and eager to move forward, to move on, and to grow with new experiences and new knowledge. This change, particularly, percolates through my consciousness in an interesting way. I think of a snake shedding her skin. It’s a good metaphor for choosing change and the growth that can come of it.

…Pastels…? I would be more easily able to do plein air work when I go camping… less to carry, more compact, easier to clean up… I  sit with my thoughts awhile… The future is filled with potential.

I think about all the various artistic mediums I’ve tried, all the techniques, and the tools… I think about what worked for me, and why, and where I was in life for each of those things… I think, too, about practices more generally, and what has worked, and how much it has mattered to simply “try things out” to learn what really does work best for me. It’s an interesting journey.

There are new steps to take, and new skills to learn. There are new practices to practice, and old chaos to tidy up. There is old baggage to set aside, and old pain to heal. It’s a journey. A process. Incremental change over time doesn’t have to be all happenstance and wandering; I can choose change. I can choose my path, and choose my opportunity. I  can choose to begin again.

…It’s time…

…I wonder where this path leads…?