Hi Everyone

I’m having a bad day again as usual with migraines as usual, but I promised myself that I would make sure to post twice this week and next to make up for my missed days. I just hope what I write is going to make sense.

Today I’m going to write about the different kinds of artists and people that inspired me to take the path I am going on. I’m sure I’ll be going all over the place but it can’t be help. Just come along for the ride and enjoy it please. I hope you do.

The first people that inspired me that hadn’t anything to do with art were of course my parents and grandparents. They were always going to work, and doing things. None of them ever seem to take breaks, except for in the summer at Great Aunt Bea’s Cottage. That was in a place that was a real life painting every day and night. My favourite place to sleep was on the couch like thing in the windows. It looked out on a beautiful moss covered rock, a tree that seemed bent for no reason on top, and many trees, bushes, grass and then the lake. It was beautiful and the call of the loons that came across the lake were so haunting and beautiful it pleased my soul. I miss going there.

Next was my cousin. She would watch me, and go to college. I didn’t really understand what she was doing, but still she was a constant figure in my life. She had loads of issues of dealing with me. I’d wake her up at 6am so she could watch the Smurfs with me, and I am sure I was very spoiled and somewhat of an idiot when it came to real life stuff. I was always in a dream world. Reading a book, going to places in my mind to get away from bad things in my life. I hated fights, still do this day, even though I seem to start a lot of them. I’d watch tv and again that took me away from real life. I just wanted everyone included me to have my happy ever after. Also I’d do things because they made sense to me. Didn’t really make sense to other people. Like the time I put cheese whiz around the indent of our coffee table because I thought it would make it look pretty.

Only one teacher at school when I was little inspired me. Wait make that two. My speech teacher who was beautiful, kind, blind and wonderful to me. Another teacher who helped me when I was being picked on. Bad thing was I became a bully because I was being bullied. Only one girl pulled me out of that route, by asking me why was it okay for me to be a bully, if I felt I was being bullied. It wasn’t right. I know this isn’t how she worded it, but that was the idea of it. To who you are, and you know who you are. Thank you. Seriously thank you.

Now comes the meaty part. Bob Ross. What can you say about him, that no one knows about? Not to much. Other than he was my safe place, my sanctuary and he told me that I too could be a painter. He was my babysitter as I eventually lost my cousin and became a latchkey child. I was to old, but my other safe places were Mr. Dressup and Mr. Rogers. I wanted to be their neighbours also. I watched so many other cartoons and tv shows and movies, but these shows previously always made me feel safe from the bullies and from scary things out in the real world.

Next we’re of course the many friends I made along the way. Quite a few of them are still my friends to this day. I feel blessed they were in my life. One of my friends always grounded me. Especially if I went way to far into la la land. Always my voice of reason. I thank her for that always. I’m very proud of all their accomplishments. Their families, jobs, loves of their lives, their passion. All of them good people. After my brain injury I did push them away. Mostly because I felt like I wasn’t me and they didn’t understand it. Some of them still don’t and some of them don’t think I have it. I know and that is what counts. I deal with the aftermath the best I can.

My great Uncle was an artist. He made beautiful work. He had an amazingly family, who are my cousins and I love them too. Don’t get to see them, but I am friends with one on Facebook maybe both. I’m unsure. My cousin that I know for sure is also an amazing artist as well. My Uncle became a teacher of art too. I was devastated for him, when I heard his eyesight was going. My grandpa had issues with his eyesight as well. Think it runs in the family.

Now come all the artists I learned about in school. I have some favourites and well not all of them will be who you expect. Or for the reasons you will expect either. I’m going to start with one who was local for where I lived. That is of course Tom Thomson. His paintings are stunning. They take me away to that exact spot. I can almost smell the trees, and feel the air of those paintings. Yet there was hardly a lot of detail there. The amazing part was for me it didn’t need detail. All it needed was there and it took away into a different place.

Emily Carr is the next one. Her paintings seem magical, different and wonderful. My favourites had the totem poles in them. What she went through just to be an artist was what brought me to her. She was strong. Like my Grandmas.

Claude Monet is the next one. Simple but so very beautiful. Just enough detail to show you whats there, but not so much it takes away from its stunning beauty. The colours to me were always perfect. I can’t seem to paint simply. I always seem to put in all the detail I see and it can become to much. To me he always stuns me with the colours.

Vincent Van Gogh is next. His paintings we’re filled with magic, sadness, and you could get a jarring feeling from it. You saw how he saw the world and where his soul was in the journey of his paintings. To me that is how artist paints. They leave a tiny piece of their soul in each painting for the world to look at and enjoy. I think for that reason, and that one alone there are some artists I can’t resonate with.

I do think that I should have continued painting after my accident. Unfortunately I didn’t because I felt it was childish, not proper and not me. Now a days I paint what I can to feel and give you my soul. I don’t think I realized at all that my brain had to re-wire itself. I might have painted masterpieces in that time. Now we will never know. I know my art is not for everyone. Some people think it’s ugly. That will be the ugly part I have in my soul. I’m sorry that is all you see.

Next is Jackson Pollock. His abstract paintings to me reflect what your soul sees. I loved them. Not everyone does. I can totally understand that. Still to me, what you see in abstract is a reflection of your soul and what you see in the world. I love throwing paint around. I think for me it’s like when I threw clay on the ground it’s calming. Everyone needs something that will give you calmness. Especially now in the world where not many people can get their happy endings.

Pablo Picasso is next. His paintings were so abstract, so bright, so filled with emotion. I’m not even sure what the emotion is that his paintings give you, but you can not un-see or feel them. Pure passion, pure love, pure soul.

All these artist went through something until they became great. Some didn’t become great until they died. They never gave up, and they made you pay attention. That is inspirational to me. Never giving up what you love for anything or anyone. I should have done that too, but I was to easily swayed and disillusioned. Mostly because I felt I wasn’t good enough or important enough to let the world to see my soul.

For me though now it’s all I can do. It’s my happy spot, my passion and my soul. I will never give it up again. It’s a piece of me that I have that is just me, and what I can control in showing the world. Since the accident I seem to have less control over what I say, what I hear, feel or even remember.

Remembering is the issue I struggle the most with. I hate it. I hate losing time, losing memories of things I’ve done. Losing what People look like who pass on, or are hardly around now. It is something that haunts me to this day. I even lose how to paint or draw things. That scares me the most. How do I not remember and how can I get me back. It won’t happen as that other me is gone. The one that remembers everything and everyone. No more.

My greatest fear is forgetting me, and all who I am or love. I forget what I’ve done, which is why I take pictures, but unless I look I don’t remember in my mind anymore. I used to be able remember everything with sight, smell, sound, and feelings. Now I can only remember in fuzziness. Some feelings, no smell. It sucks, now I do have to do homework over and over again to remember. I never did so in school. Didn’t need to. I was so weird. Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed this journey and time together.

Be you who ever that is now. Live in the present.

Ps. I just deleted my first ever blog on this website. I don't know if I can get it back as I am not finding it on my computer. If I do I will put it back.