The other day while I was painting in an art studio, I was captured by a lovely woman using a purple pastel. It wasn't until she revealed to me her sketch that I knew of this. When I saw it, I was touched. No, she did not put into it a long period of time. No, at her artistic level this portrait was not a challenge. But to see the lines that make up who are on paper, through another pair of eyes is a touching affair.
I have been thinking a lot about lately who I am, and who I want to be. What I am holding in the picture is a paint pallette. I like that remarkably for I know I paint the story of my own life. Recently being out of school, homeschooling, going to college, and having new freedoms to my own choices are all large elements to my current need to ponder who I am.
What I love most about the portrait is that it is fully me. It has no limitations to the various aspects of life that makes me who I am.
The pallette is important, for I love art, in any and every way it may present itself.
But what if that shape for a pallette could also be viewed as a book. It is no secret that I love to read.
Maybe it's one of my journals that I love more than life itself, where I have penned my heart and poetry over and over.
Maybe it's a sheet of music, from which I might sing or press piano keys into song with a love that spills out of my soul.
Or maybe, just maybe it's a plane ticket to my beloved Haiti.
I also love that my face is hidden. It cannot be determined if I'm happy, sad, excited, laughing, crying, smiling, or enduring. I do all these things. The Elisabeth in purple pastel could be too.
