The art that hurts

This past month I have been working on a series of watercolor paintings. I used fabric instead of paper. I chose my age plus a few more to add up to 30…they were a gift from a friend on my birthday.

But I started painting not because I wanted to create…but because I was sad and angry at her. The day of my birthday lunch stared good, but by the end we had stopped being friends and 2 other friends had a fight right at the party. I felt like Kimmy Schmidt when all her friends were horrible (much worse than mine) and her roommate says that is what you call an adult birthday party. 

There had been tension before that day, but I had asked for time beforehand…and she was done with giving it. So for “my sake” we stopped. 

I once had a birthday where they served chocolate cake, which I hate and my head got slammed in a car door frame…and this birthday was worse than that. 

So I started to paint with the watercolors she game me. At first in, my mind, I was doing it for her: using what she had given me. Then along the way I realised this wasn’t for her it was against her. “I won’t let you ruin my birthday and this present more than you have. I’m going to make great art with a mighty ‘YOU SUCK’ that doesn’t showcase you at all.”

This was the fuel bring underneath at least. What’s worse is I actually like painting, it soothes me like meditation, so no matter how angry I am at her, the painting is like spring rain.

I’m on my last 2 paintings and now I begin to wonder…what now. I’m not ready to go fix things, but it doesn’t feel right not to.

Based on what I’ve seen, we’ll just end up in another hole. 

I was given a gift that was perfect for me, but would I have really used it without all the anger behind it? I can ALMOST understand people who talk about falling in love to create art. The breaking hurts, but to run from the pain you might end up finding what you need in art.