Excerpt
from Church of the Dog
by Kaya McLaren
Loving the Journey*
I love to paint, to feel the creamy goo under my brush. I spread it out
like butter across canvas. I turn the music up loud and almost dance
with my brush. I paint about simple things that make me happy, or
simple things I find beautiful. Georgia O’Keefe is my hero for
that reason-- for taking the simple beauty of a flower and using
paint to make it obvious to even the busiest and most distracted
person, for using paint to help everyone see the beautiful colors of
dirt. I love how paint allows the painter to editorialize her
perception.
That said, I’ve seldom been pleased with the products of my
beautiful nights painting. That doesn’t trouble me really. Where
would I keep them anyway? I cover my canvas in another coat of Gesso,
so I can enjoy painting it again. I like not feeling obligated to keep
my mistakes. It makes mistakes appear to be what they really are
instead of permanent -- simply experiences or maybe
experiments. Often times, I don’t even finish my paintings.
It’s not about the paintings. It’s never been about the
paintings.
During a windy snow storm with single-digit temperatures eleven years
ago, my painting room was too cold to be in. Actually, anywhere beyond
a four-foot radius of the woodstove was too cold to be. With a broken
television and nothing to do, I wondered what would happen if I
approached writing like a painting. What would happen if I wrote a
story like a meditation of simple things that make me happy, or simple
moments I find beautiful? What would happen if I wrote without
considering the product, but just enjoyed the process of creating? I
wrote for six hours that day, fully intending to throw out my story at
the end of the day, but at the end of the day, I wasn’t ready.
Instead I wrote a chapter a night in the bathtub, and still I did not
intend to keep it. I simply loved the process of writing. I simply
loved spending time with my imaginary friends.
I do the same with songs too, writing fragments and forgetting them a
month or two later. Sometimes it just feels good to strum a little and
sing a little and leave it at that. Sometimes sound waves bouncing
around the house is all I need.
And every once in a great while, I’m reminded that when I enjoy
my journey, the product will often embody the joy, and the joy will
shine through the imperfections. Simply loving the texture of creamy
paint, the resonance of my guitar, and the company of imaginary friends
has left me with a 6x4’ painting of my dog swimming in Opal
Lake in autumn, a beautiful lullaby for my nephew, and my first
novel, Church of the Dog, all of which still make me smile.
*article by Kaya McLaren author of Church of the dog
©2008 Kaya McLaren