05 Jan Tip Top Gathering and Partir Est Mourir un Peu

I was nervous about attending the Art of Action soirée at the Tip Top on Saturday evening among such a large group of artists who I knew mostly only by name. Not to mention the silent context shimmering with personal hopes and fears, spiced with an undercurrent of competition. But that is why I chose to go, because the opportunity for making a personal connection with other committed artists seemed promising and fun… and it was… and I thank all of you for your generous, spirited company. I have always wrestled with my delicate/volatile artistic ego among fellow artists, which can foster a rather unnecessary isolation. Understandably, when self worth/validation is dangerously attached to worldly measurements of success – which for the hardworking, risk-taking, sensitive artist can be very threatening. So I assume each of us arises each and every day to drum up enormous enthusiasm for making artwork, without the structure and acceptance from the world. Ahhh, now that takes courage…courage to find sufficient self-acceptance to enter into a creative process that promises nothing but maybe an exhilarated moment of feeling alive or having realized an artistic whole. So, I wish to be open to the efforts of other artists, and to support one another as comrade in arms.

On another but sentimental note, upon leaving Maryland (where I visited my parents during the Holidays) when it is time to depart, I always feel uprooted. I think, too, that especially since this Art of Action initiative has been – at least for me – about honoring people who are deeply rooted and reverent in Vermont, I am reminded of my beloved homeland. Though I love Vermont, I will always be painting through an early sensory conditioning, learned a long time ago in the soft and mild rockless rolling hills of Maryland.

My mother and I are quite close, and ever since I can remember, parting has always been challenging for us. Driving down the long farm entrance from my childhood home in my truck, packed to the gills, I would crawl slowly away. Seeing her standing in front of the house waving goodbye has become at once a bonding but separating instant of our deep-rooted love. I would maintain a hawk’s eye for her tiny waving silhouette until she disappeared out of sight. Currently she is with ill health, and during this most recent departure she was so sad and exclaimed, “Partir Est Mourir un Peu.”