painting passion and the art of life

Childhood Memories and the Art of Painted Playgrounds


“The Legacy of Mildred’s Basement” by Michele Bledsoe

When I was a child

my favorite place to play was in my grandmother’s basement.

I would stay down there

for hours on end.

That was so many years ago.

All gone now,

along with my beloved grandma..

but not really.

I still go there

when I paint.

 

 

Drawing and the Art of Self-Reproach

Why are you looking at me like that?

 

I’ve been away too long..

Hopefully the next little creature I draw

won’t cringe when he sees me.

 

 

 

Unexpected Gifts and the Art of Resurrecting Bees

My husband gave me a wondrous gift the other day..

a dead carpenter bee he found in the yard.

He knows me so well.

This beautiful

black-velvety little creature

and his single coppery wing..

will live again

in my paintings.

 

 

SIX HANDS AND THE ART OF FOLLOWING YOUR BRUSH

 

When I paint
I put a blob of raw umber on my palette
and start drawing on the canvas.
I don’t stop to think about what I’m doing
I go wherever my paintbrush takes me.
Often it leads me into difficult territory..
Not away from it.
Hands are hard,
yet the creature that ended up on my canvas
has six of them.
So I struggle.
I fight.
I am committed to the end.
Dedicated to the direction of my gift
and the heart that guides me..
I will never give up.
Don’t avoid the hard stuff.
That’s how you grow.

Excerpt from Painting, Passion and the Art of Life by Michele Bledsoe

PENCIL DRAWINGS AND THE ART OF PERSONAL MAIL (PART 2)

 

Another piece of illustrated personal mail

I sent to Richard while we were dating.

It has been a long time

since I’ve seen these drawings..

I was pleasantly surprised

to find my dog’s missing leg

under the sea

with the fish sticks

and goldfish crackers.

 

ATROPHY, PAINTING AND THE ART OF BEING UNLEASHED

I didn’t paint much

while I was working on my book.

But now..

I am unleashed.

I painted and painted

and painted.

 

That night..

my hand hurt like crazy.

Muscles aching from disuse;

I smiled to myself

in the dark.

 

All I could think about

was more painting.

 

 

 

 

Self-Quarantine and the Art of Being Productive

Being an introvert,

I am no stranger to social distancing.

That is an understatement.

Nevertheless,

Time is a gift..

and I have embraced this unexpected period of self-quarantine

with wild enthusiasm.

After years of false starts

self-sabotage

doubt, distraction

and failure..

my new book is about to be published.

Now, onto the next project..