Left Unfinished

When I paint it usually means something to me, there's always a bit of therapy that I get out of it.  I've reached a rather philosophical point in my life where I think too much and do drastic things to reach new plains. Here's an earlier post ( Letting Go ) that's a good example of what I'm talking about. I'm always trying to understand my existence and be at peace with what life throws at me. I try to handle it with grace and refinement and try to find some deeper meaning or some lesson out of it. But honestly, some of life's little tricks are just plain unfair. Those are the hardest to resign myself to.

The concept for this painting evolved when I found a little toy anchor in a pile of garbage. I had been feeling sorry for myself at the time. See, I was going to be forty and I wasn't married, I didn't have a boyfriend, I didn't even have any prospective opportunities coming up. I have always wanted children, but I've seen how difficult being a single mom is first hand and that's not t he direction I wanted to go. I wanted to have a traditional arrangement before the children came. Unfortunately for me, I've never been all that good at luring the opposite sex into my vicinity. I know it sounds silly, and I don't understand it myself, but Men don't seem to like me much. Oh they like me fine as a friend or someone to have an intelligent conversation with, but when it comes to wanting me around permanently it just doesn't seem to stick. And it goes the other way too, some of them I didn't want around either. And I know what some of you are thinking, but I promise, if I liked Women I could have been married with a family long ago. Sometimes I wish I could swing that way, but I just don't. There's a point to this back story, really.

Now it's almost two years later and nothing has changed except the inevitable pre-menopausal signs have started. I've had to come to terms with the idea that children from my own body aren't going to come. I actually finished this panting once. The little anchor and the original painting (which I didn't take a picture of) represented letting go of those unseen babies. I painted a nude figure surrounded by beautiful colors of magenta, copper, and a variety of vivid blues. She is underwater, holding her breathe, watching all the magic happen around her. But, basically, she is drowning. It's absolutely gorgeous down in the world that she doesn't belong to, but if she doesn't let go she's going to die. To add a bit more texture, I added a tulle layer and the glue I used didn't behave and ruined the whole thing! Arghhhhhh! It's alright, the painting (therapy) did it's job, Children will not be born to me, I've let go and I'm OK.

I spray painted the whole thing black, it was a clean slate and the mood I was in. This picture is not all that great, but you if you look hard you can see the anchor with the figure blocked in above it. I got to this point and thought about what else I needed to drop so that I could float to the surface and breathe?  Men seemed the obvious choice. I could tell story after story of disappointment and WTF moments, but it's pointless and there's no sense to be made of it. When ever I meet someone that I'm attracted to I have the courage to let them know of my interest. This isn't happening because I'm shy, I'm a diplomatic person and only a bitch when absolutely necessary. I'm not broken from a previous devastating relationship. I have so much to offer and so much love to give. I'm emotionally healthy and I'm a grown up. That's why this is so unfair. I'm not perfect to be sure, but there's nothing seriously wrong with me. I thought that in order for me to be happy, I was going tho have to give up on the idea of being loved. (On a side note, I am loved by many wonderful friends and family and I cherish them all).  However, now that the new theme was decided, I was stumped. I haven't been able to do anything else on it.

It would seem that I'm not quite ready to give up hope yet. Hope is pretty painful at times but so is loneliness. I think I would rather hold the hopeful pain then resign myself to the pit of lonely despair.
 So I still have a painting that sits on my shelf with blurry lines, it does however have a rock solid theme. What if I made it represent the desire for things unattainable in general, like being able to breathe underwater or like becoming the first Queen of Mars? Maybe it just needs to be a shift in focus, like realizing who I am and what I really want. Or maybe it could represent being carried with the currant to new and wonderful places, trying and seeing new things.  I wonder if I just need to make it into a textured underwater scene with no meaning at all.

I wonder if I'll ever finish this painting.

And I think it may be to late to change what it really represents to me. Somewhere in the murky water is a man who is looking for me. I may let go and come up for breathe from time to time, but I keep swimming back to the anchor.  Hope glorious hope horrible hope.