In My Mind, She’ll Always Be Painting
My husband Justin’s birthday is in early September.
Which means it lands during one of the busiest times of year for anyone working in education.
But no matter what, we try to schedule something fun.
Last year we wandered through Philly in search of two very important things: food and art.
One of our stops was the Barnes Foundation.
It was my first time there without chaperoning a group of kids on a field trip.
And within about twenty minutes, I found myself in tears.
I saw a painting I’d never seen or studied before among the collection.
It was a woman working peacefully.
Surrounded by plants.
And light.
And interior quiet.
I don’t know if I was moved because I was finally enjoying a day date with Justin.
Or simply having time away from screens, lesson plans, meetings, and safety drills.
But I was undone.
It was the kind of art connection I’ve seen collectors have with my paintings before.
I can barely describe that sudden rush of feeling.
Except to call it desire.
The ache of wanting a life with more space inside it.
Across time and space, I felt like this woman was inviting me into her world.
A place where I could sit near the garden and paint.
With no expectation to perform.
Unless I wanted to.
I later found out the woman in the painting wasn’t painting at all.
She was embroidering.
But in my mind, she’ll always be painting.
