i have a canvas that has been sitting in my house for months now. it has a faint pencil image, but other than that it is blank. it has yet to see the stroke of a paintbrush; the strokes it was meant for, designed for. right now, this painting exists in my mind's eye, and it is beautiful and meaningful. it is inspired and creative. it is a part of me. right now, it is perfect. why, then, am i so apprehensive about finishing the piece? maybe, because once it's "out there" it won't live up to the art in my imagination. maybe, because someone will attach critical words to something, that in my mind is a beautiful piece of who i am, and in that moment i will be the one who is criticized. the bigger question is how many areas of my life remain blank and unpainted because i am afraid they will not live up to some ideal expectation, or i am afraid i may be criticized?
i want to paint life with many strokes and many colors, but what is it that stops me from doing so? i am on a journey to start living life with an easel in front of me and paintbrush in hand.