As I sit and look at this painting I’m filled with a swarm of emotions so strong, I second-guess my choice in it. More than three years have passed since I stood behind that bar counter and listened to my friend tell me about his new art project. He wanted to work with mixed media and he wanted the people in his life to be his subjects. I was honored that he chose me, and considered me a friend worth painting.
This painting once hung in a bar I owned created by a regular who lived across the street. Its mental birth was during a happy period in my life, and its first reveal to the world (and myself included) was at one of the worst. My sister purchased the painting for me this past Christmas and it now hangs in my office. There is such a strange mix of emotions attached to this one thing. Some days I can’t bear to look at it, and I wonder if I should remove it, cover it up or put it in storage. Then there are days like today, where I can remember the good memories attached, the love and the beauty that was once there. I’m reminded that I’m in a better place then the girl in the painting.
I hold this piece of art and take a deep breath. The rough edges of wood and metal hold an almost earthy smell. I’m reminded of the beach walks and long talks; of late nights on the pier and dancing in the dark. I can almost hear the waves crashing against the rocks and feel the crisp chill in the air as I tighten my jacket closer around my body. Even the weight of the painting reminds me of the weight it bears on my heart. The painting symbolizes significant part of my life gone forever but never forgotten.