Paint every hue of the rainbow, clumps of moist clay, spools of thread, and stacks of inked paper.
What can these separate forms of art have in common? A balm to the hurting soul—to the one creating and to those who are observing.
Depression. Anxiety. Small paychecks. Eating disorders. Abuse. Divorce. Traffic jams. Death.
Every big and every small struggle.
We each have moments where holes are carved within our lungs and heads. What will we, the artists, the deep feeling souls do?
It’s not that we won’t be thrown into deep waters, but that we must learn to tread water and know when to reach out for a lifeboat.
It’s the art of survival—the paintbrush we pick up to spread color on an otherwise blank canvas. Not every color can be pretty, but we paint on to form the hues of existing in an ever-morphing existence. We carve and sew and throw color on canvases.
We create from ashes and find fertile soil to begin again.
It’s the battle through ink. The tip of a pen is the sword with which to fight. We press hard into winds of the soul, whispering above the scream of demons. We press upward in our fight against the gravitational pull of negativity. So spell the sun midst the black. Reach in for syllables of gold despite the feelings of blue. Breathe ink into the blank places and create despite destruction.
It’s not whether or not we shall die at points on our timeline but what we do to resuscitate into a new mosaic of bone and soul and memories.
It is the deepest gift to be thrown down to rise again more whole than before.
So rise, darlings, and even when we can’t, create a tale at the bottom. Then share and share and share. For others need these expressions. Not all know the words and hues of what they are feeling, but they are crying out for ways to release—to express through those who know how.
Feel. Breathe. Create. In pain and in sunshine. Let us be who we are for a world that needs the light of the artist’s soul.
Author: Katie Kronberg
Image: Author’s Own; Suzette/Flickr
Apprentice Editor: Molly Murphy; Editor: Emily Bartran