And it Surprised the HELL Out of ME!

This is the story of, “How I Became an Artist During the Great Pandemic of 2020.”

And it’s long-winded but, I feel necessarily so.

#insight #context

Here’s what happened….

At some point in 2020, during the full-on lockdown part of it, I was watching an episode of, Little Fire’s Everywhere one evening, when Kerry Washington’s character said this---

“Like after a prairie fire...It seems like the end of the world.

The earth is all scorched and black and everything green is gone.

But after the burning, the soil is richer, and new things can grow....

People are like that, too, you know. They start over. They find a way.”

Right there, in that very moment I got an instant flash message in my brain.

From God, my guides, my higher-self or maybe it was all of us.

The message said, “You need to cleanse your house and clear this place as if a fire swept through up in here!”

Now, I’m not a hoarder but let’s just say it doesn’t take much for me to designate something a keepsake.

I hang onto to stuff.

For decades.

STUFF STUFF EVERYWHERE.

And at that moment, my stuff felt like a weighted blanket on top of me and it actually made me feel physically ill.

My house was brimming with stuff I didn’t use or need or want.

Stuff, I told myself, I was going to eventually sell on FB Marketplace or in a yard sale.

Stuff that, I told myself, was valuable.

And with all of that flashing in my brain, I got an important flash addendum to my first flash message.

This one said, “Stop trying to monetize all this shit and just get rid of it!”

This all took place within a POWERFUL 25 seconds.

I was instantly inspired.

The fire was lit, and the fire cleanse became my mission for the next few weeks.

I went through everything.

Basement, garage, attic, closets, drawers.

Boxes that had remained unopened from three moves back- everything.

I Goodwilled some things, threw away a LOT and gave some things away.

I had so much empty space on my closet shelves that it looked almost unnatural.

As I describe it here, it sounds as if it was a breeze to get rid of all this STUFF, but it wasn’t.

It was hard.

I cried several times as I went through boxes that represented my entire life, from birth to present.

As I read old letters from my childhood, teens, and twenties it was utterly bizarre to be reminded of how I used to be.

And not only how I used to be but how some of my friendships and family relationships used to be.

I could never have remembered myself or the ways and nature of these relationships, had I not saved these papers.

They would have been pieces of myself lost forever to my memory.

It was sad to realize how many things had changed and who and what was no longer.

I was sad to realize the loss of some of my open-heartedness, some of my bravery, loss of certain kinds of faith, loss of youthful hope and an endless horizon.

I was sad to see how friends and family grew in different directions and drifted as time went by and life experiences marked and separated us.

But keep-saking is a double-edged sword and there is another side to it- a more enjoyable side.

I howled with laughter and took up way more time than I anticipated needing because I was snapping photos and sending things out to people all over these U.S. of A.

Letters, cards, pictures, concert tickets- the whole thing.

These joyful, wonderful memories would have also been lost forever, had I not saved these things.

But here’s where my story really starts….

One of the boxes contained some artwork from my childhood.

I unfolded a piece of manilla construction paper and joy instantly shot through my chakras.

It was a drawing I had done at age 11.

A huge green tree, green grass, blue sky, red flowers, yellow sun and pink clouds.

Then I found another one that I had done at an even younger age.

It had white houses, with green shutters and red front doors.

There were suns and moons and day skies and night skies

I was deeply drawn to the colors and the simplicity of the characters in these drawings.

I instantly remembered back to the time when I drew like this.

I instantly remembered that I used to like to draw.

Somewhere in my mid 20’s, I stopped enjoying the activity of drawing, coloring or making art on paper in this way.

Somewhere in my 30’s I actively began to hate drawing, feeling challenged and beaten by it.

I put up walls and began writing my story around art and me.

The story went that I couldn’t draw.

That I was terrible at drawing, and it made me mad to even try to do it.

I told this story to myself over and over and it became my truth.

So, I stopped drawing.

But now, looking at my sweet, little kid drawings, done on good ol’ construction paper, I was getting an idea.

What about this kind of drawing?

What about simple, whimsical, imperfect drawing with enormous color and playful charm?

I got inspired all over again

I got me some construction paper and a giant box of Crayola crayons and went to work.

But alas…

The color saturation of the Crayola crayon was not living up to the vivid, vibrant colors I was seeing in my head.

So, I went to the next level and got me a big thinga glitter gel pens.

And then, there it was.

What had been in my mind’s eye was now on my paper.

It was alive and loud and it made me so happy.

I began drawing and coloring every chance I got.

Before work, after work, on weekends…

A creative firestorm had been ignited and it surprised the HELL out of me!

To go from actively DIS-liking drawing and feeling frustrated by the mere thought of it…to this…

A few weeks after this new part of me had stepped forward, another message of clarity was delivered to me.

This message told me that, for all those years, I had been calling upon the wrong part of myself to show up for this art thing.

I had been demanding the part of me who is the jaded, cynical, keeper of trauma and heartache, come to the table and draw.

And I demanded that what she drew had better be “GOOD.”

When all along, I should have been inviting the child, who also lives in my heart, to come out and have some fun with color and imagination, with no outcome attached.

And the crazy fantastic happenings did not stop there.

The fire cleanse, led to the drawing and coloring.

The drawing and coloring ignited the want for a space that was just for creative activities.

The want for a space like that led to me do a complete overhaul of the detached office at my house.

I had stopped using that space as my office a few years back and it had became a catch-all for STUFF.

It wasn’t a space I liked to be in.

I got that weighted down, sick feeling when I was into that room.

But today it’s an amazing space that I love to be in for drawing, coloring, writing or just watching TV.

It’s no longer an office.

Now, it’s my studio because I’m an artist and artists work in studios, not offices. :)

I’m in my studio typing this right now.

What the hell just happened?

I ask myself this question a lot, with wonder and gratitude.

It happened so fast.

Y’all.

I became an artist practically overnight and it’s hilarious and awesome and fun.

I can’t believe I like doing this.

I can’t believe I love what I’m making- and how it makes me feel.

You’ve probably figured out what’s coming in the next few days…

Please stay tuned!