"And the key moment of becoming an adult, the difference, one of the defining differences between an adult and a kid is that adults relinquish a certain kind of freedom. You can't lie around on your bed all afternoon, and you can't be possibly any number of things. You have to only be one thing, or a couple of things (my italics)."
I am haunted by this. What does one want to do with one's life? Fumble along with the impulsively formed ideas of a teenager? What of making money? The notion of being "one thing" has been going on a tear in my mind the last few years, growing in strength as I approached 40. What is it that keeps me from painting every free moment? How much time should my garden activities be taking? Should I be making a living in the landscape, instead of my current job? It's like I have been living a life visible through a kaleidoscope, looking in there are all these pieces of me spinning around, somehow not whole or resolved, but you know there is a whole person there.
When I was in residence at Weir Farm last year, I spent much more time exploring the landscape than painting. I read books, I photographed, I blogged. Why paint when I can communicate in such a rapid manner? Why paint the fleeting light, the shifting values? Why paint at all?
I've been working on a small group of Prospect Park images. Each includes people -this is unusual for me. The colors are insanely green, toxic green. My colors are not to everyone's taste, but then what is?
Neither of these is near done yet, although this one is a little further along. Space, atmosphere, distance is important. People get hooked on technique, but that's just a means to the desired end.
_________________________________
I left the studio to do a garden coaching session. I had been considering removing this service from the blog, and was about to, until I was contacted by Aimee last week. She moved to a new place, had a history of gardening, and just needed some advice. I was a little early, so I walked around the block.
Pokeweed allowed to grow ornamentally.
Those berries look so good -don't!
The session went well -jeez, like it should! She had giant fig trees and some old shrubs (hibiscus, privet, forsythia) in the yard, decent, but dry, soil and an amenable landlord. An amazing yard, actually, with plenty of opportunity for growing. And lots of figs -a squirrel chowed down on them while we talked.
Afterward, I thought about making a living in gardens or landscapes. I thought about my dead end job. I thought about my mother in Florida trying to live on social security alone. I thought about painting. I thought about being 66 years old without much feeling of security. I thought about Jonathan Franzen writing a book called Freedom.