A few months ago I participated in an out-patient day program to treat my mental illness. At the end of the program, I was given the chance to extend my commitment by joining a four week art class. Because the art class was still in development, no additional information was given to me. Nonetheless I agreed to join it mostly because I thought it would be fun.
The painting you see is the result of that art class. I’ll be the first to say, it isn’t very good. The colours are muddy and the blending is awful. But I’m okay with that. I’m not a painter, yet.
This painting, or the act of painting, was a delight. My lack of knowledge forced me to concentrate on what I was doing. My lack of skill caused me to laugh at my mistakes. For the entire time it took me to paint this arctic scene (yes, it’s a poorly painted arctic scene), my mental illness was completely forgotten. For the first time in many years, all thoughts of my illness were gone. Think about that. I can’t tell you just how freeing that experience was.
An awful painting, but a moment of time for which I am extremely grateful.