That refreshing immersion, bubbles and ripples and watery oblivion. . .except the characters who come along. . .a sweet teen on a porch swing pondering love and kissing in anticipation of the hot air balloon take off of life. . .she longs for the madness of costumes and alter egos and grown up dresses and scarves and make up and the complexities of bodies. . .her own perfection overlooked.
Each woman here dreaming the story of another to complete herself.
The Tuesday Evening Muse group is breaking for the holidays, but we agreed to continue the art journaling at home on Tuesdays, if possible. So last night I exited the dinner table and went straight out to the studio and imagined that we were all engaging in this soul sketching process in parallel universes, but together. If you want to join us next Tuesday evening, please do!
I think I’m relating so much to the young teen/woman in me lately because my children are now 18 and 20, and although I’m the wrong gender to be able to fully empathize with them, I tend to revisit the feminine version of myself at that age. And now I get to bring along with me the old woman to view the picture through the lens of a tiny bit of wisdom, perspective, compassion. If only I had known then what I believe I know now. . .but then, what would be the fun of that?