Birthplace

When people ask me, as they often do, where does it come from? The paintings? The vision or idea? Like an outsider, I observe my mind searching for the answer. It shoots straight to the center. I could feel it; the birth of creation. And like a movie strip, each painting and its origin flash abruptly, laying a glaze in my eyes. I am left speechless.  Where do I began? Which painting are we discussing? Do I even have words for it? So, I began a feeble explanation of a few sources that inspired me to wake up at 5 am, and paint… or write, for that matter…

-Words. Words connect to some unique portal, which unfold visions. Words in songs, words in books, poems, words spoken by others, words on walls in supermarkets.  I’ve been inspired by quotes at the post office and cereal boxes.  Yeah, words find me.

-Images. Images create new images.  A good example of such creation transpired, in fact, today, during my favorite hours. While typing away on my laptop, I looked over through the patio doors. I could hear the birds welcoming the day with their song. It pushed me to go outside. Gorgeous morning. I faced the sun. Closed my eyes. Calmness. The rays of light penetrated through my eyelids and I saw lines, shapes and colors. “Wow. I want to paint that.” A though arose ,and I stayed with it for a moment. There is no going back, now. It’s somehow in me. The idea might be overshadowed by everyday life for some time. But no doubt, it will resurface, and I will paint.

-Emotions. Emotion is this crazy, beautiful, strange, cozy yet stormy kind of a thing that cannot be rationalized. No way, no how. I will not even attempt to try it… So, Yes. Emotions.

-Dreams. Enough said. Dreams.

There are countless ways, which inspiration is conceived and birthed… And I’ve been their mother for as long as I can remember.