The road towards becoming a great artist is an interesting one. In the span of one week I found myself using Art in ways I had never previously envisaged. The words ‘Art’ and ‘Therapy’ have often been thrown together these days, and I have to personally admit, I have not always deemed them comfortable bed fellows. And if Art can also be therapy can we take it one step further, and ask, can Art truly help when someone is grieving? Well according to my discovery, the answer to both of them is yes. Months previously, I had accepted a wonderful commission/ challenge from a colleague. I was to paint a car, and not just any car. This car, this beast of a Valiant, luminous in an unheard of blue green which cameras could not do justice to, was the car that was bequeathed to my colleague’s son by his beloved uncle who had passed away. The photo which she handed me had his uncle sitting in the car, smiling his huge smile, but as with most old photos his features were blurred in shadow and time. All you could really get was a sense that this man was warm, generous and wonderfully gregarious. I was also to include her son somewhere in the picture. When I accepted the job, I really didn’t fully comprehend the weight of their expectations or hopes. Sentimentality aside it was a real challenge of a job! Cars have to be precise like faces never have to be. The reflective chrome, the undulations of steel and the effects of light and perspective make for a challenge I had not met before! (And that’s why I accepted!) While the job tested me, my fundamental understanding of Art and colour pulled me through. No matter how difficult or detailed or big of a job, everything in Art comes down to line, tone/shade, shapes and colour. A great painting is not completed in a day, and as I worked on it, I just kept telling myself when i was really struggling with a point or two, ‘Just complete one inch at a time’ – and after a while those inches added up! My colleague was visibly anxious when I told her her painting was ready to view in the Art room. As she walked in and viewed the painting the quietest gasp left her lips and she just stood there, and quietly said, ‘That my son… that’s his uncle… and that’s the car!’There isn’t much more rewarding than to live up to the expectations someone has in their head and then quietly surpass it… Meanwhile that Sunday as I had a good day drawing portraits for people at my Arts stall at the Perth Markets, a lady came to me. I had previously done a caricature of her son and it was sitting with pride in her son’s room. Her father had died recently, and she wanted me to draw a tiny portrait of him inside an old frame as a gift for her sister (who was really close to him). I half expected to see a gold locket the request was so old school! Once again the picture was tiny, grainy picture of a man standing proudly in a tux next to his bride. My customer was the first to admit as I took in his features, that her father’s face was so distinct and weathered and well… not handsome at all! But he was kind, and proud and fearless like the land, wild and rugged. The piece of cartridge was tiny, barely 5 by 3 cm. I told her it’d be done in 15 mins and we haggled over the price because she felt that my initial price was too low! When she came back and saw the job I did, she too fell silently and gazed at the picture that was her late father, and you could see her trying to hold back her emotions. It was love and loss and reverence in a moment for a drawing, not just because of what she saw but what it represented. I had a great day drawing that day and even sold a painting, but that moment was a real highlight for me and will be with me for a very long time. Going back to my colleague, she was thrilled to tell me that her son loved the picture and regardless of her protests he decided to hang the picture up in HIS room rather than the lounge in a makeshift shrine towards his uncle. And she told me that when his grandma came to see the picture she too had tears in her eyes. There are few things as memorable as a face. How often have we gone ages without seeing someone, often a childhood friend and seeing them decades later in the street, something in a brain registers and we realise them to be that great child hood friend! Similarly every inch of a lovers face is etched into our brain and also that of any loved one. And the magic with art and drawing and portraiture is that if the artist is skilled enough and they too possess a little magic, then someone who has long passed can also too be for a time again, alive. The process of art is to create, it’s a living process that photography isn’t always. And I have discovered that while I have often viewed Art as being therapeutic for myself I have found that people on the other side of Art can also utilise it to honour their love and loss and help heal themselves too.
I am exceedingly grateful to those who entrusted me with the memory of their loved ones and that I could be of service to them. Thanks for reading.
Now over to you, what do you find therapeutic, and is Art one of them?
