What Lies Beneath
I’m painting a series right now inspired in part by the ice along the lake. I’m forever intrigued by the cracks, lines, and layers of the ice. I love the patterns and how it shows up against the darkness and depth of the water. What lies beneath?
When I got more serious about painting, a teacher asked me if I was actually seeing my painting. Did I like my marks? I was shocked to learn I wasn’t really looking. I didn’t even know what I liked or didn’t like about a mark. It’s a great metaphor for our lives. Are we really seeing our lives?
How do we find ways to make visible what is currently hidden from us? It’s never obvious. I must first actually look at it. Observe. Investigate. Take notes. What can I see that might point me in a direction or give me a nudge? Intuition certainly helps, but only after I’ve quieted down enough to actually see something. I have to get beyond all my “feels.” Feelings are important for sure. I’ve started to think about them as a signaling system to help me know where I should be looking for any patterns.
When I was in my mid-twenties, to understand myself, I decided I first had to understand my family. Where did we come from? How did we get this way? What happened back then that makes us behave this way today? It was only in context that I could start to see my role and why things were the way they were. Understanding the history of our dynamics was essential to healing for me.
I began by approaching individual family members one at a time. Every time I was in town or had an opportunity, I did my best to initiate some action in this area, no matter how big or small. Some interactions were hard. It was awkward showing up at a relative’s house that I hadn’t seen in close to a decade. Initiating is hard. I did it anyway.
The intention to build relationships on my own, beyond my parents, was enough, but it helped that I took time to think about it and look at the dynamics in between. But looking back, that initial tiny effort was a breakthrough that had a huge impact on my future personal happiness and highly influenced the future of our family relationships.
History in a painting refers to all the marks in older layers of paint–sometimes visible in color or shape or texture. We may or may not have liked those marks in real time, but this history develops over time. The building of this history is what creates depth and beauty in a piece. I think this is a great metaphor for life.
Examining where we’ve been and why things happened the way they did may be uncomfortable. But observation and thinking about it is key to learning. Instead of being a deterrent, that awkward feeling is a sign of success. Pushing through the “ick” is where understanding lives. I try to run TO the ick, not away from it.
Not everything will work or yield fruit, but the act of LOOKING and TRYING will eventually lead somewhere. This is how I breadcrumb. I notice. Try one little thing. See where it leads. Pay attention. Integrate it into what I already know. Then try another. This is where history develops and I’m often surprised by what I can see and how much I grow to love it–both in my life and my paintings.
