I have a habit of being restless, observing yet being detached. I sometimes daydream, and yet I forget to be grounded back down to earth. A part of my Sunday routine has been sitting at my local coffee shop's orange leather couch. I bring my laptop, my sketchbook and a book I pick up at my local library. I sit for hours, and I work on my laptop perusing and looking for call for artists to submit my work to, and then I take a break and read. It calms my mind. It allows me to think of the week that just passed. 

Last weekend my art was portrayed in not one but two galleries, I beamed with pride seeing it on the walls. It has always been a fear of mine, to work on something so personal only for people to walk past it. But I realized, it doesn't matter. What matters is how I feel when my art is on the walls. The process of finding the perfect blue to portray what is in my mind, finding the frame, putting wires for my work to be mounted and displayed. It is what I call a quiet accomplishment. I choose to invite only one or two people in these shows and often I prefer to be alone. I like meeting new people, mingling with others or simply staring at my own work or others. Four days later, I had another piece in another gallery and it was the same feeling. In this particular show, I was pulled in every direction. I remember thinking how I wanted to eat deviled eggs, but the curator was determined to introduce me to other artists. I met wonderful creatives, and it felt good to be complimented on my work. My brushstrokes, the use of color.  I was intensely grateful for these opportunities, I worked hard to be in these shows but the inner me kept thinking of deviled eggs.  A bit later when I found some quiet time for myself, I checked my email and found out that a painting of mine was sold. 

I have sold so many commisions in my life, but for some odd reason this particular piece had me speechless. I have never sold an original. It felt deliciously uplifting, to know that someone bought a piece that came from my mind. It was a tiny painting, one of my cat being playful. But I remember obsessively finding the perfect blue and settling with cerulean and phtalo blue, playing with sap green and raw umber, prussian blue and dioxedine purple to avoid using black. These little things that I obsessed over, someone bought that painting. Whoever that person is, thank you. I will continue to chase this feeling. I've always painted, yet never thought to myself to enter shows, competitions much less sell originals. But my head is bursting with ideas, with color and knowing my art has a place other than my head is so uplifting it makes me hungry for more. 

Here I am with the little painting at the gallery :) 

- Sheena