Last night found me driving Matthias to LAX and a long time away from home. I don't expect him to be back in the desert until late December or early January. We are fortunate to live in a modern era of cell phones, internet and
Skype. I find myself unable to complain to those who had husbands leave for military service or something similar when communication was limited to letters. Still, the house is empty with only a fuzzy dog to keep me company. I was pretty upset yesterday, but today I begin to think of all the work I have to do between now and the end of October. I will be soooo busy, maybe I won't notice. Too much. Being married to a pilot is all about learning to be alone and then together, alone and together. Alone and together. Times sixteen years. If you can't toggle between those two states of being, well, then my advice to you is DON'T marry a pilot. I think I have the husband I am supposed to have, because I am grateful for my solitude, and what it does for my ability to focus on my art. I am an independent person, and would not do well with a husband who was around me all the time. Indeed, I am grateful my husband found work, and he is happy about that, too. So overall, I cannot complain. I just thought you might like to know.
So, here I am, gearing up for the
Hwy.62 Art Tours: October 23rd and 24th, with the
Ventura Arts in the Park the weekend before. If you notice my blog posts are skimpy and somewhat rare, just console yourself with the knowledge that I am thinking of all of you, my dearest readers. I think of you when I have a brush in my hand and paint smudged next to my nose, knee-deep in another painting. (If I could figure out how to paint and blog at the same time, you would hear from me more, I'm sure.) I actually write blog posts in my head, if you can believe it, and sometimes I am surprised that those myriad posts don't show up here, because they never got typed. Only in my head.
I am reading a book called
The God of Small Things, which is set in India and makes me think of my friend
Lily, who is learning about mold, leeches and other things related to living in India. Lily, if you are reading this once-in-a-long-time post, I think of you so often!!!
Here is a small oil painting, called Sundown II, which was recently finished and framed.
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| Sundown II. Oil on board, 10 x 8 inches. ©2010 K.Swenson |
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Hopefully, it won't be another full week before you hear from me again!
3 comments:
Interesting post Karine. Yes, we all find the partner we are meant to be together with. And yes, all artists (at least those I know), need solitude to work in.
God of Small Things is a fascinating story set in Kerala, but in Bangalore, where I live, there are no mould and leeches! Come to think of it, I have never seen a leech in my life :)
It's an odd combination for an artist, isn't it, the need for companionshiop and the need for solitude.
Karine, your work continues to evolve, and gets more beautiful with each piece.
Sing it, sister. I wish I were around to come pester you and enjoy a desert sunset g&t! Such a struggle between missing them and then learning to really focus on making art during that time...you constantly inspire me with your ability to manage that fine balance.
These jt paintings are looking STUNNING. WOW. xo.
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