I started my next painting last week after trying in vain to get the first five printed at work. I was finally able to get the printing done last night and with any luck will have everything up at the yogurt shop tomorrow.
The giclee’s didn’t turn out too bad, not as nice as I would have liked, but good considering the photographs were a little low res for the print process. Once I get my originals back I will scan them a portion at a time and see if I can get original that work better.
This experience has been interesting, sometimes frightening, sometimes exhausting, and always emotional. It’s not unlike standing in front of someone naked, in the middle of winter, after a cold shower, 100 pounds overweight, bathed in fluorescent lighting, on a stage. Honestly, it is a very vulnerable insecure self loathing critical thinking judgmental place putting ones artwork out for all the world to stare and point fingers at. It makes me really nervous and yet I am compelled to start websites like RohrFineArt.com to invite even more strangers to stare at my nakedness from the comfort of their own home.
Why do I do this to myself?
Why do I feel so repulsed yet compelled to create? Why do I stand up in front of hundreds each week and sing my heart out and get completely lost in the moment and act a fool only then to consider what I must look look like acting the fool and shudder at my vulnerability and do it all again next week? Why do I paint pictures and hang them in public spaces inviting people to be critical and then live in fear they might actually have an opinion and in response to that fear invite more people to criticize?
I have come to the conclusion that I can’t help myself.
I am fatally drawn to create by the Creator and His passion and love for me is something I can no longer control. I am being pulled along, overtaken, swept up in the swift current of this great romance and drowning in the conviction that His affection toward me is real. In that place, face to face, the reflection of me through gentle eyes is so lovely, so pure, so sweet and intoxicating I willingly let go of my last breath of self perception and inhale His.
I don’t understand it, I can’t adequately describe it, but I know it is real becuase the version of me, the idea of me, the one I find when I am caught up with Him is so not from me. I know what I think about me, I have spent a lifetime creating this visage and I know all too well the way I can detest it. My me and God’s me are quite disparate at times. My me and God’s me would not be friends most days. My me and God’s me would argue almost all the time about almost everything. My me and God’s me are worlds apart most days but my me and God’s me are getting to know each other.
I guess that might be the point of it all in the end, getting to know God’s me instead of my me.
So with fear and trepidation I drop the layers of my me and step on stages to become naked so that I can put on God’s me.