It was a week of scrubbing away.
Scrubbing away the dog slobber and paw prints on the floor. Scrubbing away the mud on the back porch. Scrubbing away the paint layers in the utility sink. And scrubbing away on this painting, until there was just enough left.
It is an abstract approach that calls to me. Building up layers, scrubbing away. Adding more layers, sanding down. Throwing on more paint, polishing away with a soft cloth. It feels like life on a canvas...how things in our lives are worn away, polished smooth until the rough edges and firm boundaries are gone. Sea glass. Tumbled stone. The soft leather of an old chair. The perfectly faded, softly rounded fit of old jeans. Worn away until what remains is exactly right.
Sometimes I get a heightened sense of this in my own life. The wearing away of rough edges. The softening of bones and skin. The fading of hair and eye color. The fuzzy, worn memories and elusive words and phrases. Yet what remains is all I need. The rest was superfluous. I wish I could say I feel lighter with the wearing away of things. Instead I feel (and literally am) more weighty. Perhaps because each remaining bit is meaningful and cherished.
Here's what I've been listening to in the studio this weekend. Selah, by Emeli Sande. And the Gestalt A Capella version from their new album, Beyond the Archetype, which is now available on Spotify. (shameless plug from a very proud mama)