A bit ago, the Arts Mill had a call for art for the BIG show. I was excited to participate-NSAA is near and dear to me. And it would be my first attempt to paint (and sell) a large canvas. I was pretty proud of the painting I created. I submitted it. It was not accepted into the show. It was REJECTED. I’m not going to pretend this didn’t sting. Or that thoughts of “well, it’s clear I’m not a painter. I wonder who I should donate my paint supplies to?” didn’t cross my mind. But I always go through the “poor me” stage. After all-being an author means that rejection isn’t new to me. When I dusted myself off from all of that, I asked the Arts Mill’s director, if I could pay her for a critique of my art now that the show (without my painting) was over. (I get critiques for my writing-why not have a critique on my painting?) She was straightforward and shared her exquisite wisdom in a gentle and kind way, which is the perfect blend for learning. The painting that came forth next on that
Laughter and wine, blankets and a dropping sun. Then hushed tones to witness a champagne sky as the fire falls behind the water. The rhythmic sound of clapping waves is joined by gentle clapping of spectators who gathered together in a quaint village to celebrate the ending of a day. I’ve said it before when I was a part of a similar evening, at the other end of the country… how wonderful it would be if EVERY collection of 24 hours, strangers to each other and friends that are forever would conclude their day by gathering together in appreciation and awe. What a beautiful way it would be to end each day.