Sunday night I had a paint brush in my hand as I lost track of time. It had been about 6 months since I last held one. It was not a canvas that I painted on, but a backdrop for a local play where I am a member of the cast.
A few of us choose to wear more than one hat by volunteering our time to make costumes, construct sets or in whatever way that the production needs. The backdrop is a huge panel that stands over six feet tall. We laid it on a large table where you work on one panel at a time. It would be a huge undertaking for one person to do all the backdrops alone. There were a few of us working together who all have different levels of artistic experience.
I am a self taught artist who never worked in that scale before. There is something magnificent and magical that happens when you have people join together on something they are passionate about. I found myself in the beautiful place known as flow. Time ceases to exist when you are blissfully creating.
I would slip gently in and out of flow when talking to those I was working with. Flow is where doing becomes the state of being. I am engaged in the creative process that connects me to my soul, God and to others. My hands are the vehicle that transfers creativity through my paint brush onto the surface.
I am excited for the possibilities that emerge from flow. Next weekend I will be painting the finishing touches on the sets. Why I was away from painting for so long remains a mystery to me. The prodigal artist needs to never venture so long from home ever again.