Mended Canvas
There was a time when I pursued a career as an artist. I opened a studio in a renovated old factory called, “The Factory at Franklin.” I worked off commissions, sold originals and taught lessons. The exposure from having a public studio space allowed me to expand into area galleries for a while.
Eventually, I transitioned from the open studio to working out of my tiny townhome keeping up with the demand of the galleries. To be efficient with paint and time, I would set a dozen canvases on the 10x12 floor, the dining table, the counter and my easel to paint all at once. This worked well (sort of) - until I had a toddler.
The sound of a 40x60” canvas ripping into the corner of a wooden table was as comical as it was devastating. I stared at the hole in the expensive pre-stretched gallery wrapped canvas and back at my precious toddler. For a brief second I was consumed with despair. This was going to be a huge waste of money. Money I didn’t have. Profit and time lost. I had to try to fix it. But, I wasn’t sure if I could because I’d never painted on a mended canvas. I didn’t know if a blemish would show, if there would be an obvious dimple or bump in the fabric. But I had to try. With careful application of gesso on the front and back, I pulled the torn pieces back together. It was clear something had happened from the back, but not from the front. When I laid down the first layer of underpainting, I realized a mended canvas holds paint just as well, if a bit differently, as a new canvas. I painted a field of bright sky and fluffy cotton over the tear, restoring purpose to the canvas I previously assumed was ruined.
Later, it occurred to me, had I thrown out that canvas in order to start over with a perfect one, I would have missed out on the restorative process. I would have wasted, not only the canvas, but the learning, which turned into teaching for my studio art students later on.
I have thought about that canvas often in the years since. There have been a couple of times my life has been ripped to shreds, when I was nearly consumed with despair and didn’t know how things would turn out. But, God keeps restoring me and painting a new scene over my torn pieces. Like the scars on our skin, or the wounds on our hearts, these blemishes make us more complex, more interesting and even stronger than we were before.
You will live in joy and peace. The mountains and hills will burst into song, and the trees of the field will clap their hands! Where once there were thorns, cypress trees will grow. Where nettles grew, myrtles will sprout up. These events will bring great honor to the Lord’s name; they will be an everlasting sign of his power and love.
Isaiah 55:12-13
Now I approach my love for art in a different way entirely. I study the work of others and I explore the artistic cultures that have come before. I work through joy, grief, loss, life and God through creative expression. It’s all a gift.
I’m thankful for where I have been, I’m excited about what is to come and thankful for all the mends in between.