Afraid of the Dark

afternoon light 2

All My Dreams for You, My Darling… in the afternoon light

My Daughter is at a beautiful age. Old enough to have serious skills in all sorts of areas, but not yet old enough to have become stymied by indecision, inhibition or a perceived inability, she throws herself into everything with gusto and excitement. The only thing that curbs her enthusiasm, is cabbage – if it’s not cut small enough. I can live with that. I have been hiding vegetables in the spaghetti sauce for quite some time now.

All My dreams for you (detail)

I’ve had a few conversations about motherhood lately, and talked about my journey through it a little in my interview with Creative Boom. But it was something that my Life Drawing tutor said recently that really opened the floodgates. He’s always throwing thoughtful theories and advice into the ring for us, and this is one of his standard bits of artistic advice.

‘You won’t progress if you are afraid of the darks.’

What he means is: be more confident in your work. Press harder! Use more paint. Make a better impression, a darker mark. Scribble some. Go over bits. Lose things you like, to find better outcomes. Use dark to bring light. Paint over the darned thing, start again. Don’t be afraid.

All For You (detail)

All My Dreams For You, My Darling – detail

Now, I love this advice, mainly because I don’t like to mess around anymore. I love dark, smudgy pencil and getting in a mess with black paint. I’m impatient. I get cross. I paint over stuff regularly.

All My Dreams (detail)

That’s what really resonates for me. Paintings on top of paintings are always my best ones. I like the bits that glint through. I like deciding what stays and what goes. I like the power, the feeling of control and the scary thought of ‘What am I doing?! It was better before! This is new territory, it’s too much!’. But the resulting whole is always better than the sum of its parts.

All for you my darling [detail] jpg

All My Dreams for You, My Darling – detail

I got so fed up this week, missing my Mum, aching about my Dad. They both died, quite soon after one another. Those were dark days. I struggled. At the time, there was a song on the radio all the time, with the refrain ‘Now you’re just somebody that I used to know’. I played it hundreds of times a day. I turned my parents into people I just, well, used to know one time. It was much easier. I coped with months of sifting through all those boxes of possessions, sorting, keeping, remembering. I waded through the not inconsiderable wreckage, as though I didn’t know either of them. I don’t know if it was a good idea. It’s just what I did. Short term, it worked. I got through all the admin and hassle and heartbreak, eyes down, flat out, exhausted, overwrought… but still here.

All My Dreams (detail)

The thing is though, to progress, you can’t be afraid of the darks, and ignoring the darks is a really bad thing to do. You can’t move forward that way. To see the light, I think you really do have to look in detail at the dark. The scope of it, the depth. Everything that happened to Mum and Dad, and to me, and to my brothers, couldn’t be ignored anymore. Short term, I had managed. Long term, I wasn’t working properly, as in, bits of me were dying. I kept checking the mirror to see if I was actually there. Maybe I had turned into just someone I used to know, too? My day to day story was one of panic and anxiety and fear. I did live for a while in a state of constant high alarum. I almost lost the plot.

Something had to change.

afternoon light

All My Dreams… bathed in the afternoon light

It was hard work, and I’m grateful for all the help I had to do it, but bit by bit I faced up to the darks, called them by name, saw they were pathetic. Painting helped. No question. Anxiety. Depression. Panic. Gosh, they make me mad. Crazed politicians, all of them, all pomp and bluster, standing on the tarmac with their trousers down. Ha! I try not to swear, so I won’t. But I could.

I’m not afraid of those darks now, though they still like to come back and haunt me. If they catch me off guard, I could be prone to listen. Lies, all of it. The dark is already beaten.

I’m a better Mother for my daughter, and my sons, having looked at those darks. I’m a better painter. I’m a bit like a painting I’ve gone over. The old one is underneath, still valuable. Still present. But the end result is better.

This painting is all about all of that. It’s called ‘All My Dreams For You, My Darling’, and it’s by someone I used to know, who’s very much alive, and living in the light.

 

 

8 Comments on “Afraid of the Dark

  1. Reading on a platform,
    Tears
    Empathy
    And the fold on my phone shows a cross above the painting. Xx

  2. Loved reading it Trudi. Love Roger On 2 Feb 2016 17:14, “Trudi Murray Art and Illustration” wrote:

    > trudi posted: ” My Daughter is at a beautiful age. Old enough to have > serious skills in all sorts of areas, but not yet old enough to have become > stymied by indecision, inhibition or a perceived inability, she throws > herself into everything with gusto and excitement. T” >

    • I love this Trudi. Our art teacher is so right and I agree it does apply to life too. So happy you are living in the light now. It is apparent in the beautiful work your are producing. X

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