Shared Studios and the Art of Talking to Yourself

“And Then You Blink” by Michele Bledsoe

My husband and I paint back to back in our home studio.

We listen to music, we talk to each other..

and we talk to ourselves.

“Why are you still using this brush?” I scold myself in disbelief.

“#$%*@! Yes, yes… oompa loompa!” Richard shouts enthusiastically.

It is a strange disjointed conversation..

punctuated by wordless grunts

sentence fragments

and a variety of hoots

howls and whistles.

We are still in the same room

but we are gone.

Lost in our own worlds

just as it should be.

Migraines and the Art of Pain

The Jail Tree by Michele Bledsoe

Excruciating headache

since 2:00 am

curled up

hand clamped over my eye

to keep it from

popping out of my skull

beneath the unyielding pressure.

It went on and on

for hours and hours

coming in terrible waves..

When relief came

I was bursting with gratitude..

how wonderful it is

when pain stops.

So I ran to my easel

and painted and painted

with such great joy..

The headache did not return..

banished like a demon

in the light of God’s gift.

Neglected Paintings and the Art of Doing Laundry

A work in progress by Michele Bledsoe

Life got busy.

Really busy.

It happens..

but I let it pull me from my easel

for too long.

That was a mistake.

Suffice it to say

I was no longer myself..

I had become

an unbalanced load of laundry.

So, I ran to my neglected painting

to set things right

and threw myself into it

with wild abandon

falling fearlessly

and gratefully

into the glorious embrace

of God’s gift.

Painting and the Art of Not Having a Clue

When I first started painting

I had no idea what I was doing..

but that didn’t matter.

All I needed

was the unshakable

unrelenting desire

to create.

Secret Galleries and the Art of Home Repairs

We had an art show a few weeks ago

with a single attendee..

the handyman who came to repair our wall.

He examined the paintings that surrounded him

while he worked..

and as the plaster dried

he walked around

staring at all the art.

He spoke to us about our paintings

and shared stories of his own collection of art..

his father’s landscape paintings

which he treasured.

As he was leaving

he thanked us for the experience

and his unexpected trip

into an art exhibit.

This is art the way it is meant to be

not cloistered away in a sterile, white-walled gallery

but as a part of everyday life..

living in our homes

like family.

Lost Dolls and the Art of Perserverance

“Lost and Found Again” by Michele Bledsoe

The floppy yellow doll in the lower left corner of this painting is Beth..

my sister’s beloved childhood doll.

Many years ago,

in a moment of carelessness

Beth was lost

and my sister was filled with regret.

It broke my heart.

For over 20 years, I have relentlessly searched for Beth.

Antique stores, yard sales

and endless, insomnia-fueled internet searches.

A noble quest

to reunite my sister with her beloved doll.

Recently, my doll-hunting obsession

came up in conversation.

My sister remembered me telling her about it

10 years ago.

She was touched that after all this time

I had not given up.

I told her I would look for Beth

for the rest of my life

if that’s what it took to find her…

The next day, Beth was found.

As my husband held me in his arms..

I wept tears of joy.

My quest is over.

I am at peace.

Love and the Art of Collecting Laughter

My husband and I keep a journal next to our computer.

Whenever something makes us laugh our heads off

we write it down.

Occasionally,

we read from it

and crack up all over again..

It is our collection of laughter.