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Friday, October 5, 2012


'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.

What the..............

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?