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A Quest for Joy


Quest for Joy

This week we were delighted to gather once again before the easel of artist and dear friend, Helen Farson. Helen is a gifted teacher and Gloriosa Studio was ready for our two-day art experience. In past workshops we have painted bright sunflowers, softly-tinted hydrangea, and vivid gerbera daisies, usually with pears, grapes or cherries. Helen’s still life on this occasion was a glass vase of breathtaking white roses. Observing the bewildered looks on our faces, she reassured as she began to gesture on her canvas, “Think shapes. Don’t think roses.” We sat in awe as her demonstration unfolded. “Put in your darks. Paint across the shapes.” Helen likened the value scale to musical notes forming harmonious chords and melodies. As she redrew with a mixture of purple and cadmium red deep, she quoted author and theologian, Thomas Merton: “Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.” Painting is not for sissies, Helen emphasized: it involves passion, dedication, consistent practice and patience. Painting is a quest for joy.

 

We approached individual canvases tentatively, hoping to emulate what Helen had so adeptly modeled. The voice of Eva Cassidy provided musical background as we painted and our teacher circulated and encouraged. “Squint way down. Don’t think petals-- think shapes and value shifts.” I must say that we surprised ourselves by the end of day two: each finished painting a unique style but unmistakably white roses. Over glasses of French rosé, we shared impressions, challenges and suggestions. We were delighted to purchase Helen’s new art book, Paintings of Joy (www.helenfarson.com), in which she wrote personal inscriptions. I look forward to painting with Helen and artist friend, Laine Francis, in the Province countryside in September!

 

Painting is a quest for joy. My heart is full.

  

 

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Losing Lynx


When I lost my rescue cat Domino, Larry was determined to find me another. "Persian kittens for sale" read the sign on the door of Nature’s Emporium. Further inquiry found the asking price was $300 and not an option. “Free kittens” in the newspaper advertisement, however was, we headed with anticipation to a farm in the southern part of the county. Two litters of six gave us a dozen colorful choices. We left with one from each litter—a short haired sandy-colored male, whom we dubbed Charlemagne (“Charlie”), and Lynx, a female tabby whose brown symmetrical markings warranted the naming. Following an exhaustive flea bath, Lynx fell asleep in the folds of my sweatshirt, her furry warmth nestled against my collarbone.

 

Yesterday, 16 ½ years later, I had to tell her goodbye.

 

Older cats are susceptible to many health issues related to heart, kidneys and with Lynx, lymphoma. Both cats have led healthy lives, Charlie the active tomcat climber of trees, Lynx the more sedentary and tentative. Following Larry’s death, the three of us moved from Fountain Place to Forestdale where we adjusted well to the one level and spacious patio. Last year, during the shuttered-in time of COVID pandemic, I decided it was time to paint both cats. The paintings hang together on the wall in my studio.

 

We know our pets won’t live as long as we’d like but, as many of you know, losing one is like losing family, especially after so many years. I’ve been fortunate to have had them both as loving and faithful companions. Do animals have a spirituality? Realists would argue not, but I have a different belief. They are God’s creatures and are entitled to a space in the world of the invisible. I don’t think we ever truly say goodbye.

 

How is your heart? Mine is at peace. Life has been good.

 

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