Into the Snow

My first artist date was very nice. It would have been enough to just be out in the snow, which thank God has finally come to our small piece of the world, but I went also to the Antique Mall just a mile or so from my house. In this mall, I visited Gallery North - a co-op of local artists - and Grandma's Attic. The gallery was full of oil paintings and watercolors, scarves and mugs and even baskets. I browsed but was distracted by the two women who were in charge of the gallery for the day. They were very kind, but I wanted to be as completely alone as one can be in a store... I went next door to Grandma's Attic, a delightful place with twenty or so small, sectioned-off little rooms with everything from Superwoman lunch boxes to bright red stools. There I found the peace I was looking for--- I knew I didn't have a lot of time (it was about to close), and the place can be overwhelming, so I felt had to choose what I wanted to see. For some reason, I was drawn to the bright colors, the yellows and reds and oranges. I sought out these colors by themselves, in solid form - in shiny, rich tones, in things I could use. I found a red stool, a yellow chair, an orange pitcher, a yellow twig stand with a basket, an orange cup, and this yellow pan. Yellow, the color I've loved most so far in life, was what I really saw yesterday. After I purchased my pan, I walked into snow blowing so much it was almost blinding. I felt grateful....for the snow, for the solitude, and for the fact that I had fully seen a few things, appreciated their beauty and utility. Usually I try to see, do too much, take it all in, like trying to take pictures when I want to remember a place and then leaving without any deep, personal, meaningful impression.

Though so old and chipped (or perhaps because it is so), it is possible my pan will remind me of this lesson---

*I know some of you reading this are wondering about these dates I'm talking about. I'm part of a group studying Julia Cameron's Finding Water book, and in it she talks about three things she believes every artist must do in order to create - weekly walks, daily mornings pages (three pages you write as soon as you wake up, about anything) and artist dates. Here's what she says about the dates:

"The main weekly assignment is the artist date. Spend two hours each week doing something for you -- alone. Again, this is tougher than it appears. It's easy to let the dishes, the laundry, everything else get in the way of this weekly date, but it is very important. Just as anyone would woo a reluctant lover, so must one woo the inner artist, coax it out to play with fun and games."