I painted my pain Friday in the studio and it was amazing. In process painting you paint EXACTLY where you are in the moment and in that moment I was really hurting. I chose colors that felt like the pain.....gray, then a sort of puke color and then a swampy green. Dripping and oozing down the page, it mirrored the dense, tightly compacted discomfort I was experiencing. I decided to really check out what was behind the physical sensations, and there is was....all my shadow stuff. "not good enough", "loser" SO MUCH GRIEF and sadness. It felt clogged, and stagnant. I continued to paint and realized the gray drips were becoming shadow figures - parts of me made up of shame, abandonment and invisibility that don't get much attention. Inside the shadows I painted the words that were bubbling to the surface and eventually, the heaviness lifted. I felt profound compassion for my shadows and I realized I no longer wanted to paint the pain....it was starting to dissipate I wanted to paint a loving pink color around my shadows. The minute I began to move with the pink, it felt as if a warm blanket was lovingly wrapped around me and my dark figures. It was pure comfort and a true nurturing that can only be found from within.The best part of all? I was in good company. Two women"Souldiers" were painting through their own adventure at the same time. We worked together as we worked alone.
THIS is what I live for! I can't imagine my life without this practice and this community. And yet, it's possible the studio will have to close. This kind of work isn't for everyone and I know that. I also know the society in which we currently live demands we take a look at our shit. This work has to be able to continue for those who want it and we aren't closing Nectar's doors without a fight! My business partner and I put together an Indiegogo campaign and could really use your help getting the word out and donating, even a dollar, if possible. Thank you for reading my words and checking out our studio's campaign.