Lost and Found / Work and Play

Took a trip to the art store this morning. Since I have a big beard and at times a ponytail, I feel like I can walk into the art store and they'll just assume that I know what I'm doing. So of course, I act like I do. The guy asks if I need any help and I say, "Oh man, no thanks, you know I'm just here to pick up some paper and whatnot. Thanks though." As if I just needed watercolor paper every few days or so. 

I did grow up around art. I would stand transfixed looking over my brother's shoulder when he would pull a pen across a piece of paper. Michelangelo used to say that the sculptures where already in the stone and he just chipped away all the extra bits that were in the way. Watching my brother draw, even when we were kids, it was like the lines were already there and he was just confidently following their lead. I get a nostalgic feeling thinking of watching him create so fluidly and beautifully. 

I used to draw quite a bit myself before I got into guitar and eventually singing and songwriting. Sometimes though, I pick up some watercolors or a pencil and enjoy the sound of lead pulling across paper pouring shape and image. I'm certainly not a painter but today I felt a great joy in making a picture. I didn't really even realize it till I was finished! I stopped finally and saw that for the past nearly two hours I had been lost in a wonderful way. I was working hard but it was play. 

I painted Hosea walking down the street to purchase (redeem) his enslaved wife Gomer. I got lost in the story, the work of the pencil and paintbrush, the very media pushed and pulled at my imagination and challenged my effort to tell a story in a tiny image. It was really fun. It was play and it was work, I got lost in it, it wasn't escaping, it was discovering.  Somehow through making we lose ourselves in the work of play. In working to tell the Story we learn to live in it, and (I hope) to live it out.