“I am not an artist,” are the words I used to tell myself and anyone that asked. I had heard that people sometimes used art as a way to get down on paper what their words couldn’t express. But that seemed impossible to me. Without talent how could I ever express adequately what I was trying to say, or more importantly, feel? Feeling the feelings was hard enough.
Except one day an idea came to use the paint to be my emotions rather than as a way to express them. What if a color was used to represent an emotion? Even if I could not feel that emotion I could, at least, acknowledge or imagine that particular emotion does exist in me. So I chose, for example, that red meant anger and blue meant sadness, It was no longer about what I painted for the focus was on the paint. Blue said, “Ok, I am sad. Why might it make sense that I am sad?” Red said, “Ok I am angry, why might it make sense that I am angry?”
The paint and the brush became more comfortable but something seemed missing. And then a wonder came. What if God was in my emotions and in these paintings too? The color Gold now meant Holy.
Something shifted. No longer did “Anger red” feel so alienating when “Holy gold” swirled beside. “Sadness blue” didn’t feel quite so bottomless when “Holy gold” peaked out from underneath. What once was a form of therapy became a form of prayer.
Would I, now, say that I am an artist? No, but the impossible has become possible. The Creative Spirit dwells within me and that is enough to keep painting. The One who shows up in my paintings, continues to paint healing and wholeness in me.
