'Cracked Egg' 36x24, Acrylics on Canvas
"I'm not a sadist, I just play one on canvas."
Art walk. A couple walks into the studio, looking no different than the good number of others that have come through that night... They approach the wall where I have my 'Origins of an Egghead' group of works - my original 15, and admittedly the most 'emotional'. They exchange some words, point to this work, then that... I'm having a chat with friends, but offer up my usual: "If you have any questions about my art work, I'm happy to answer them."
"You are the artist?" She seems confused.
"Yes." I smile; not falsely. I'm happy. Good night; good friends...
She, and who I've gathered is her husband, approach, "These are very emotional pieces..." She still seems confused.
"Yeap", I blurt; big grin.
"You don't look like someone who painted these..." Whether she realizes it or not, she's starring.
"She's a psychiatrist," the husband adds.
"Very emotional work... Congratulations", she finally adds and they leave the studio.
Offended at first - what exactly should I look like - I quickly realize the magnitude of the compliment I've just received; and decades-old fears fall from me in flakes... I am not defined by my past. I am not perceived as broken. The face I wear today is unburdened. I look happy, because I am. 'Shelled', if you will, I am unburdened through these expressions on canvas because past realities have found a new place to exist: outside of my head. And there is vacancy for every good I choose today. Maybe I'm cheating... I haven't decided. But, I let Egghead take the hits, both past and future. He can take it, and I can move on with my life.
So what exactly should an egg-sadist look like?