Word Weaves

I just delivered my LAST portrait.  Well, I do have a very short list of clients who are so wonderful that I will never refuse their commissions.  In fact, they have been the only people I’ve done portraits for  the last few years.  Except, relatives, of course.  Can’t turn them down either.

The latest portrait subjects were Emily and Taffy, the  granddaughter of a lovely couple I encountered at horseshows, and the pony they keep for their grandchildren’s pleasure.  They commissioned me to do their first grandchild in 1996.   Since then, I’ve done each grandchild as they reach the toddler to tot age.  Emily, I am told, is the final grandchild.

Here I am with a new website, a new blog, and I’m working on a new title – “Children’s Book Writer and Illustrator.”  We’re 9 years into the new millennium and 23 days into the new year.  A great time to begin anew.  It seems to me life is all about starting over.  The most significant change in my life has been the path my career traveled down last January.  I was an artist, struggling in mid life to find my niche after two successful careers.  I followed my heart early in life; honoring the horse crazy kid that I was by becoming a horse trainer and riding instructor.  I loved every minute of my twenty year involvement, but my art was calling and I finally laid down the reins and picked up the pencil.  Portraits as gifts, led to portrait commissions.  I never intended to make that my second career, but those commissions kept me busy for 12 years.  I knew this was just a stepping stone, but I wasn’t sure where to.  Seeking artistic nourishment, I went back to school and finished my BA. Then what?  I played with my art and tried art exhibits and gallery shows for a few years.  Definitely, not me.

I have always had stories running through my head.  I used to write them down, but then I became an adult with too many important things to do.  A year and a half ago, we moved from the city to a semi rual town.  It was a long, arduous process.  We also adopted two rescue dogs, who required a lot of attention.  Between the move and the dogs, my art was set aside.  By January of last year, I was one frustrated artist.  One day, I picked up a notebook and out poured a story.  Seventeen chapters later; it was an almost complete young adult novel.  That this story evolved from characters I had drawn in my sketchbook, was not a surprise.  I often planned paintings in series, because I was always trying to tell a story.  In fact, my portraits all told stories about the subject’s lives. 

So, this new beginning of mine ….. is it really a beginning?  Or just a natural progression from the childhood artist/storyteller that I was, to the adult who has finally come to fruition?  I don’t know the answer, but I’m thankful to be here.  I have so much to learn and that thrills me.