Early morning is quiet and still, with coffee and good books. It is a time to be alone in my private corner, with only my dog Jeriah at my feet. When the dark is beginning to give way to light outside my window, I let Jeriah bound out the back door to sit on the hill and watch for foxes or deer. With another cup of coffee, I stand in the kitchen, go over my lists of what needs to be accomplished - adding and subtracting from the day's duties. The art studio is directly off the kitchen. It inspires me, when it's clean. As I press about the still quiet house, I see the reminders of the things I long to do, set about to lure me. The typewriter, a gift from one of my dear students, beckons me to write. And, my unfinished drawings, not the drawings for work, but mine, are another temptation. I may never be a great writer but that's not the thrust. I love writing. I love words painting pictures in my mind. And, I love drawing. I love shapes, shadows, and shines that come together, speaking and quickening my heart to what I find is true, and right, and lovely.
Though the time for my own work is perpetually on the proverbial shelf, I do find a rewarding sense of accomplishment and joy in what claims there are on me each day. I teach art to children, out of my home. I create the lessons for them, both my own ideas and ideas they request to draw or paint. I was told by one mother that her child's art went from the refrigerator to frames. That was a high compliment and it touched me. Since I struggle with doubting my worth, I hold those words close. I thirst for my alone times, an expanse of time, all mine. But, I find I need the children, their aliveness and energy, and the way they see the world with their young eyes. And, time with the parents, when they pick up their children. Many have become friends. Though I am much older than the parents, we enjoy each other's company and they often stay and visit. I am blessed.
Visit: tiphaniemorning.com & chalkfaux.com
Visit: tiphaniemorning.com & chalkfaux.com
