I look now out on a Redwood tree. I am reading Angels of Grace by Anselm Grun. It is a wonderful book, and I highly recommend it. It is about seeing angels as virtues, or virtues as angels. "Virtus, the Latin word for virtue, means both power and strength. Virtue is a power that can transform our life. The Greek word for virtue was arete, meaning the character of a noble and educated person."
I look out and see virtues, as angels, hanging like Christmas tree ornaments on the redwood tree. I think, for me, right now, art resides in the interface between inside and out. I struggle with huge, expensive, ego-driven buildings designed to evoke something in me. I rebel. I want to feel my own footsteps walking within. I find that difficult to do, right now, in a building that is empty in huge parts, and crammed full in others. I need balance, silence, peace.
I need enough space to feel the beat of my own heart when I view. I want to feel my heart beat strike the art and come back to me. I want to relate.
I understand there are many reasons for art. Perhaps, chemo is giving me enough of the darts. Or maybe I want to offer something of myself to the art, to all that I view. I cannot live one-sided anymore. I have to relate, and feel connection as it springs.
I did one painting through cancer care, and the teacher-therapist called to ask me if she could use it to get a grant. I am happy to offer it for that. There is purpose in the painting, learning for me.
I watched children today filling out mimeographed sheets. I'm sure they are useful. I remember when I went with an art teacher to the Museum of Modern Art with my children when they were young. Most of the children gravitated to Georgia O'keefe. They went for flowers, for bones. We let them choose. There were no mimeographed sheets.