I had my three children in three years. (It didn’t take much back then, just washing our clothes in the same batch could have done the trick…) During those years when they were small, I took some time off from painting. Once I was out of the acute care phase and could consider getting back to work, I found a studio space and just assumed I could pick up right where I left off.

It didn’t work out that way. There was a petulant, resistant energy in me that had no intentions of doing what she was told. This took me by surprise. I didn’t know that the artist in me could get very pissed and uncooperative. Up until that point in time, she had been attended to very well. My short term hiatus from working—all for a good reason—felt like a betrayal to her.

So I talked with a wise friend about what I should do. She told me that I needed to woo my artist self the way I would a lover—shower her with gifts and attention. Make visits to see her, but don’t overstay. Dish up hefty helpings of sweet nothings. Be patient in winning her over.

It was unexpected but extremely wise advice. And eventually the resistance dissipated.

So I am in a similar place once again. Now the hard work begins—the court and spark, the cajoling, the sweet talking. Come on, baby, give me a chance. I’m all yours…

From the wall of green glass in my studio