For most of my Master of Fine Arts Exhibition, Dad sat outside the gallery. The two rooms filled with “naket maideleh” (Yiddish for naked girls) were a bit much for him. He said he liked the backs and requested I paint more of them. Mom on the other hand seemed happy and enjoyed showing her old boss and his girlfriend around the gallery.

Thirteen months later, my father died. My parents, in 1982, had become first time “snow birds,” northerners living in Florida during the winter months. I was visiting them in their Boca Raton condo when he died suddenly.  

My Dad’s death was shocking. I came to terms with my loss by imagining myself kneeling in a deep cave in the ground, light streaming in from overhead. I actually felt his spirit leave me. It felt like the heavens were inhaling his spirit up away from me. There was a sense of finality that helped me accept his passing.

My brother arrived to be with us the next day. Outside the living room window, all three of us saw the double rainbows, one for me and one for my brother. Their multicolored glow brightly arched towards heaven then back down the earth letting us know Dad was safe and happy.

SUMMARY PART OF 2

Art, the one aspect of my life that was never buried, saved my sanity.

A youthful dream summed up my belief: I was sequestered in a tower with no stairs or doors, only one window. I believed a prince riding a forse through the sky would fly through the window to rescue me. All I had to do was wait. And in my waking life thay's what I did — I sequestered my inner life and wait to be rescued.

I patiently waited for my life to blossom. It never did. Life seemed beyond my reach. Until, by some accident of nature, or was it my fairy godmother's magic wand, or a brew from an old crone's cauldron, I discovered eggs. Or did eggs discover me? No matter! No one flew through the sky to rescue me, but eggs got placed under an easy chair, illuminated by a flashlight and awakened with paper and charcoal. I began to breath in a life of my own.

The evolution of the egg from simply egg to large female torsos was laborous, frought with chaos, self doubt and loneliness. Eve was warned not to bite. And when she did, she faced a long, difficult labor. And so it was with me.

But isn't that life — experiencing and nurturing our inner lies so we can exist in the external world as complete human beings. We endure hardships and pain, joy and love along the journey. It was a new life for me, one in whcih I wasn't accustomed to. My needs and emotions overwhelm me and at time I still long for the passive, naive simplicity of waiting to be rescued. Then reality demands acceptance and the urge to create reassers itself. When i create I must face the chaos and uncertainity anew, each and every time. Sometimes the artwork comes easy, sometimes it is a struggle. It is always cathartic and a reminder of my humanity.

Continue to Part 3 >