Battlepoint Blue

Battlepoint Blue Heron, 24×36″ acrylic on wood panel,

-based on my personal photo taken at Battlepoint Park

This one was a battle: it involved silicon spatulas, markers, and the accidental pouring of far too much gloss medium that could not be resolved. It always looked dreadful to me. It caused a knot of self doubt to gather in my gut like a dust storm expands across the steppes. And in the end, stepping back, I realized I probably have impostor syndrome. And that’s okay: we all have something; some of us have multiple “things”. I just found it mildly entertaining that it took me until age 57 to realize I wasn’t just pretending to make art.

I’ve learned to meditate on manifestation before starting each piece. I only know what the subject will be, and never know the style until I’m well into the work. I focus on just being able to do justice to the subject, to be worthy of its energy. I do believe that I’m not always in control, that sometimes an energy comes through me, and that, sometimes, I’m just the conduit. This is a very common feeling for many people who devote themselves to creating something. I no longer try to define my “personal style”. It just happens, and that’s the way it should be.

Have you ever been up really close to a fully erect heron? They are totally fearless and tough as nails. There used to be one that would come to feed on the koi in my parents’ modest little pond. Naturally, the koi population was somewhat limited due to the size constraints of their neighborhood. So, there was one dusky twilight when I decided I’d shoo the fellow off. I got within roughly a couple feet from one before I realized I hadn’t made any impression whatsoever on him. He stood his ground, facing me somewhat belligerently. It was only when I had gotten so very close to him that I understood he was contemplating driving his enormously long and sharp beak right through my chest, and thought better of my approach. I backed off by walking backwards a few steps, shrugged, and left the koi to their demise.

Someone near and dear to me told me my painted heron looked “grumpy”.

“Have you ever seen a heron’s face?”, I replied. “They are grumpy.”

I know some of you will disagree, because your mind’s eye will flash you scenic images of herons serenely wading through tidal waters. For me, however, the heron is very much a creature to be reckoned with. I stood my ground, this round.

The following picture is included to show the size, and because I’m sharing what I know is the fleetingly sweet taste of emerging intact from battle.