My life as an artist died when I could no longer hold a brush, a pencil or a pen.
I was a professional artist for almost 20 years. I had a one-woman show. I schmoozed with all the artsy fartsy folk and loved it. Then my fingers, hands, wrists, and other parts hurt. Holding tools became more and more difficult. Fibromyalgia came and took up residence in my body. Over the last ten years, art has been delegated to football posters and locker decorations. I created a new image for our school mascot. But even then, I could only do so much.
Last year, I started Lyrica. Since January I've been participating in NOOM a weight-loss program designed to tackle issues scientifically and psychologically. I've been developing healthier habits including yoga, meditation, walks, good food.
Through this covid crap, I've been following my friend, Virginia Nelson on Facebook as she posts her latest paintings and projects. She inspired me.
When I was on vacation with the family at Lake 27, I attempted to draw. I managed a couple little illustrations. I must say, I felt really good afterwards. Maybe all is not lost.
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| Sitting on the end of the dock, I played with a marker and paper. |
Perhaps the artist within me will rise again to draw and paint. We shall hope and take small steps.
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