A STORY. 72. THE AUTHOR CONTINUES

I think of a friend, Karen, who abandoned her paintings on the curb, by the side of the road, when she went to live with her boyfriend, her partner. He didn’t like the colors, he said. Too dark.

She died six years later, of colon cancer. I don’t know if there is a connection.

I didn’t know, for years, that she’d abandoned her paintings. I believe I only learned at the time of her death. We had fallen out about something or other maybe ten years before. Not important. I don’t even remember what it was.

When I heard of her abandoning her paintings - so much creative achievement - I went numb, into shock. How could that be possible? I remember her talking with such animation about the deep rich layered saturated dark colors. I remember her love for the colors, the paintings, her creative visions.

As for her last relationship, it was, I heard, the best relationship of her life. She said that to a friend of hers. Anyway, that’s what the friend told me.

When I told a friend of mine about Karen’s abandoning her paintings on the side of the road, like me he was shocked, horrified. The biggest shock and horror was at the boyfriend, who supposedly “loved” Karen, but just did not like the colors of her paintings.

Was he fine with her abandoning them? Did he encourage her to abandon them? I don’t know.

My friend could not understand anyone like the boyfriend. Neither could I.

My guess is that her boyfriend’s not liking the colors was the last straw for Karen. She sold some paintings, but not that many. They accumulated. She barely painted in the last years I knew her.

We don’t live in a society with much space for creativity. I remember her exhibiting, once at a gallery, but mainly at restaurants and at small local shows - her works beside those of people who had taken an art class or two - her works seen largely by people who could not tell the difference between what she was doing and what people were doing who dabbled a bit in art.

After her death, for Karen’s memorial service, her boyfriend put together a slide show - all the images from an exhibit she had before they met. I didn’t notice a single new work from their years together.

Did she paint at all during those years?

I have no idea.

I know how hard it is for most creative people, including myself, to get an audience.

Kids are encouraged to be creative.

But then . . . mass products. Plus, people text, go on social media, and watch video after video instead of, for instance, reading novels and poetry, going to art galleries, writing songs.

Karen had a strong inner drive that kept her going for decades. It wasn’t enough.

I also have a deep inner drive. Lifelong. Coming out in different ways. From 2006-2012, I put many of my poems online and they have had an audience - for a few years up to 60,000 views a month, meaning three-quarter of a million a year. But there was no ongoing connection.

For some years my creative drive has been largely submerged. So many vital issues. Islam. Covid. The Predators. Mass depopulation. How to flourish despite all that.

Every now and then, I felt an inner nudge to give some attention to my creative works and creative impulses.

But some issue would grab me, something so very important to write about.

This March, I listened to an inner nudge - the nudge to have “you” walk into a used bookstore.

And now I am here, in this ongoing experiment.

I can feel the tug of “you” in the nook of the bookstore.

To be continued . . .
A STORY. 73. TOMORROW NEVER COMES
https://elsaiselsa.substack.com/p/a-story-73-tomorrow-never-comes

A STORY. ALL THE CHAPTERS ... UP TO NOW
https://elsaiselsa.substack.com/p/a-story-table-of-contents-up-to-now

Posted August 12, 2024