painting passion and the art of life

The Story of Bug

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The beginning was horrific.

After dropping my husband off for work one morning
I returned home to a nightmarish sight…
what appeared to be a newly born kitten, lying in a bloody mess
near the step leading onto my front porch.
I was shocked to see that the tiny creature was moving..
impossibly alive.

A very premature birth..

Quickly, I reached down to rescue him from the swarm of ants
already blanketing the placenta lying next to him..
that’s when I discovered the umbilical cord
was still attached.
I severed it with my hands
and brought the tiny life inside.
I called him Bug.

Over the following 12 hours
I cleaned him
fed him, kept him warm
held him in my hands,
and loved him.

Sadly, it was not meant to be.
Bug was too premature..
not much more than a fetus, really.

Hairless, pink.
Eyes sealed shut.
Ears barely formed..
Incompatible with life.

I held him warm in my hands
One last time…

Minutes later
when I checked on him again
I saw that he had died.
12 hours..
From the moment I found him,
Until his quiet, peaceful death.

Still, I was heartbroken.

I wanted to keep Bug.
I wanted to keep loving this tiny animal
I wanted to give him a home
I wanted him to survive..
But, it wasn’t meant to be.

At the time, I didn’t understand..
I was not there to help Bug live,
I was there to help him die.

Bug did not suffer and die on the hot pavement,
exposed and alone.
For his short 12 hour life
He was warm and safe.
He was loved.

Goodnight, sweet Bug
You will live again..
in my paintings.

Not Trying and the Art of Failure

Illustrations from “Painting, Passion and the Art of Life” by Michele Bledsoe

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For many years

I had been trying to write a book..

but I failed.

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Actually, I failed many times..

over and over again.

I had lost my way.

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Then I had a revelation..

an epiphany.

I was thinking too hard..

getting in my own way.

I was trying to write a book

instead of writing a book.

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Filled with renewed passion and purpose

I poured my soul out

onto those pages..

and it became

the book I was meant to write

instead of the book I was trying to write.

Big difference.

.Big Big difference.

Old Paintings and the Wondrous Elasticity of Time
Work in progress by Michele Bledsoe

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It has been many years since I’ve worked on this painting.

Maybe even a decade.

Yet, here at my easel..

it could have been yesterday.

I remember everything.

I dive in without hesitation..

effortlessly matching the subtle shades

of complex color

perfectly.

Seems I have never left you.

Trust the gift.

Clean Teeth and the Art of Visiting Trees

I arrived early for my teeth-cleaning appointment

to visit my favorite seedpod tree.

I was disappointed to see it had been trimmed recently..

with all its magnificent treasures far out of reach.

Nevertheless, I was determined.

Finding a long, sturdy stick

I jumped up..

whacking at the branches above my head

until I was able to finally knock one loose.

You’ll find a lot of these seedpods

in my paintings..

It’s where I keep all the things I love.

Little Canvases and the Wondrous Experience of Painting Small
Work in progress by Michele Bledsoe

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I love painting small.

It is an remarkable experience..

wondrous and intimate.

Leaning in close

with tiny brushes..

I can unleash my soul

onto a canvas

that can fit

in the palm of my hand.

Painting and the Art of Losing Control
Psalm 151 by Michele Bledsoe

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Sitting at my easel painting,

everything is moving along as expected..

then suddenly I’m using the wrong color

the wrong brush.

I am adding strange objects..

lines twisting across my canvas

in bold, strong strokes..

I have lost control.

I never fight these impulses..

this is what happens

when God steps in.