And so, I go on, making art and talking about making art. And perhaps when I explain it simply, I think others will understand it, but perhaps not.
Everyday, every minute, I ask myself why I make art. And the answer is, I don't know what else to do. How else does one live her life without making something new? What other purpose could there be? Not very altruistic, I suppose, with regard to the big picture. I do set aside time to help others, but my passion is that of a maker.
Today I started two new paintings and worked on a couple of others. I began painting Albert Einstein, cutting his text from a book of Practical Mathematics.
And this caused me to realize, in a flash, I am not a rocket scientist! (Okay, I may have realized this before...) But what I am trying to say is, I am no Einstein. I am no Elvis Presley. I am no Audrey Hepburn or Marilyn Monroe. I am no Thich Nhat Hahn!!! I am not like the icons I have been depicting in my series of text paintings, but... I am. I am like them. I am connected to them. And I am drawn to them. I am drawn to understand them. And by drawing them, I hope to begin to understand them.
My art is an examination of humanity. Sometimes this is quite obvious. When I paint Marilyn, I am trying to see what others saw in her, and I am trying to see what she saw in herself. When I paint Albert Einstein, I am trying to see how he saw, and I am trying to see what made him vulnerable. When I paint myself, I try to see how others see me.
Sometimes I hesitate to take it any further.
Perhaps it is simply as Einstein says, "People love chopping wood. In this activity one immediately see results."