As I look upon the heap of quilts that I created on my couch, I wondered about the actual benefits of doing Art. Where in the process does is the actual therapy involved? I used to believe, it gave me agency, when I felt I had none. Now, I am wondering just how it enhances my life.
Is it when your Art is in a Gallery, or in an Art Show?
Both of these events are kinda nerve wracking, for you are displaying what feels like your inner being.
At times when I see the whole pile, it feels like over indulgence or perhaps a manic behavior.
Is my mental being on display in my art and what is it saying?
I think about how I feel doing Art and it feels like an escape or perhaps a break from mind chatter. It is a present moment activity.
Would then the pile on the couch indicate the many hours of peace and present moments I have had?
Am I seeing piles of therapy hours in art form?
Therapy hours that now will be making their way to the Art Stroll in Marquette.
Therapy hours that mostly are women being, moving and enjoying life.
Am I still subconsciously creating where I am in my world?
I think I thought, that art was giving to me, but maybe it is a place for me.
A place where I can disappear, to appear.
Appear in a fantasy of colors, shapes and designs; to be a creator or one in control.
Life unfolds in ways we have no control over and I must feel a relief of some sort to be in in control while doing art.
Putting colors and contrasting fabrics together, making them be in harmony with each other. Making strong and empowered women doing what they love, gives me the permission to do the same.
And, I see my art as imperfect.
It wouldn't pass muster with the Quilt Police.
My art in its casual form allows me to be me and not follow what others believe I should or shouldn't be doing.
Living life imperfectly, my art and I!



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