Art, what’s in it for you?


Why do we paint? Painting can be a great outlet for your sanity to take a bath in. It washes your soul free from all the bustle in city life, it calms the constant chatter of your thoughts, it eases your worrying onto a blank canvas. Painting can be a much needed healing process. My aunt passed away recently. She was like a mom to me. The most wonderful woman I had ever known. She was giving, patient, kind, compassionate and very slow to anger. I wanted to be just like her. She was perfect. Then, the most terrible thing happened. She fell victim to Alzhiemer’s. I can’t explain how horrifying this disease is. I lost my aunt not once, but twice. When her death finally came, I had actually lost her completely two years before that, because I no longer recognized the aunt I once knew. I loved her so much, her death ripped my heart right out of my chest and served on a platter, I could almost hear God chuckling at me as I died inside. I took a deep sigh of depression and a shot of desperation, grabbed a canvas and painted her. It took quite a while to paint her, because I had to take frequent breaks from profuse wailing. I looked like I had some allergic reaction, all swollen in the face from crying so hard. I saw her in my painting, in her portrait, staring back at me, there was the aunt I loved so dearly. She had taught me everything about being the best person I could be, how to be kind and humane, never judge anyone and to always be respectful of others feelings and truly care about all living things. I would torture myself even more by putting on her favorite music such as Pink Floyd’s “wish you were here”. The neighbors probably thought I was manic-depressant because I was crying well over the legal decimal limit, any louder and only dogs would be the only ones able to hear me, every single day until the painting was finished. However, I feel it helped me a great deal. It was my last connection with her, and that was very important because my last connection with her was so brutally taken by Alzheimer’s. The point of this long, sad, story, is that art can be our refuge. Our dreams accomplished on canvas, our pain splattered with the paint, our happiness poured out in color. I will take a canvas anyday over a bottle of xanax. Matter of fact, I think I’m so weird that xanax actually had a reverse effect on me and the result was not good to say the least. Paint is still missing on the walls from my xanax episode. However, painting is healthy, doesn’t cost a lot, can really be better than any drug and can answer your questions faster than any counselor can. So paint. Sit down, put on your favorite music, have a glass of wine and dive into your sanity session. Pay attention to how you feel, let your emotions guide your brush, allow those feelings to surface so you can deal with your reality while you paint your fantasy. If you are interested in seeing the portraits I have done, they are in the personalized paintings section of

portrait of my dear aunt