The Fear Of Painting

I didn't go to Las Vegas.  I have the flu.  You know that one that people get the flu shot to avoid getting...that one.   I began falling ill Thursday night.  I've eaten enough ibuprofen in the last 5 days to kill a mule.  Nevertheless, I am TRYING to get to my studio today.  I have a painting that I need to make and it must be done by this saturday so that it can be dry and ready to hang by thursday in time for the Harwood's opening on Friday.

This afternoon as I lay in bed feeling helplessly stuck in a body that won't cooperate and I thought "Why?"  Why?  Why did you get the flu Juliet?  What was happening Thursday night that made you want to get the flu?  

Do you want to know what I was doing?  I was painting.  I was in my studio, lights off, high wattage clamp lights on, lighting up this little canvas where I was half-heartedly (1/9th heartedly, let's be honest) painting a dog.  It was a commission.  And I was miserable.  But I was strong.  I held my brush and my palette and put paint to canvas and did it again and again until the underpainting was done.  

And then I drove home.

Then then I got home.

And I felt like a creature made of a hard yet brittle substance.  Like some sort of bug that could be squashed under my black payless boots or be eaten by my cat.  And  don't I hate it when she crunches those things in front of me.  And I can hear her crunching.  I really hate that.

And I opened my laptop and opened pictures on my hard drive and plotted out my painting for the show at the Harwood.  

And all the while, from somewhere hidden, this voice said "Why do you bother? This is a waste of time.  What are you going to accomplish with paint?  You're gonna be miserable.  It won't come out the way you want it to.  Oh Lord, Here we go again?  Why can't you just quit painting and stick to it!"

I don't know who's voice that was.  Maybe it was a demon.  AN INCUBUS!!  (watch the movie ink if you haven't seen it yet!)

So, I realized today that I'm terrified to get back into my studio and paint.  This is what I wanted and I'm terrified.  So terrified I contracted the flu.  The best ever excuse not to go paint.

About an hour ago, I had a conversation with Painting.  Don't ask me what I mean by this.  

Ok fine!   I was sensing a being who was the representation of the art of painting.  It was a she?  And I sensed that she wanted me to paint.  So I decided to talk to her directly.  I asked her if she had something to say to me.  And then I wrote down her answer.

She said to give her a chance.  She said I had to go to my studio everyday and put on my gloves and open my tubes of paint.  She said I had to try.  And that I could doubt myself but not to doubt her, just show up everyday and try.

So it's 4:15 pm and I'm lying in bed wrapped in towels, doped up on flu medication, and feeling like I'm at the halfway point between dead and alive.  But I'm going to get dressed and I'm going to get in my car and I'm going to go to my studio and try.  Don't wish me luck.  There's no such thing.