I just couldn’t go back to Chicago.
Two days of sun in the last month in Chicago and a few sunny days in Palm Springs with friends, and every fiber of my being insisted “I can’t go back.” I CAN’T GO BACK! I’ve often THOUGHT that on vacation but never acted on it. This time I thought, “you’re almost 64, you don’t have work or anything to go back for… if not now, when?” So 4 hours before my flight, I banked my miles (thank you Southwest), found an air b&b that would allow art making (as long as I didn’t leave any paint splatter or indication that I was there!) and rented a full size Dodge Ram Truck!
The bed of the truck between the wheel wells measured 48” x 60.” The guy at Home Depot cut a piece of pressboard to fit perfectly. I bought rolls of plastic, plastic tape, painting tape, scissors, a staple gun, a flathead screwdriver and found some great colors of oops paint (the paint they custom make for people who don’t pick it up ~ (pro tip ~ they sell these for .50-$2).
At the art supply store, I bought 2 stretched canvases (which I later literally cut off the stretchers because they had backing bars that would have left marks on my paintings), 2 rolls of canvas, 10 large sheets of paper and paints. A quick stop at the ~ legal ~ dispensary and off to Joshua Tree!
A light filled livable garage style space! Moved the furniture out of the way and covered every square inch of my work area so I could feel free to dance and paint with abandon. So liberating! Painting in the morning and evening, scrambling and bouldering in the afternoons. Perfection.
I know this sounds woo-woo, but I SWEAR I could feel the energy of the rocks pulsing through my body. The grippy granite allowed me to scramble at least 50 feet high, through cave-like spaces, up steep rocks, finding my way higher and higher. By myself. Alone. And when I came back down to try to capture in paint what that FEELS like, I felt energy from the base of my spine literally shooting up my spine out the top of my head and radiating from my body in all directions. I danced in the rocks, literally, and felt energy simultaneously pulling in and pumping out from the reach of my hands. I know… sounds crazy, but truth.
The week at Art Launchpad ended and a trip to the outdoor store in Yucca Valley netted an air mattress, battery-powered pump and a $30 sleeping bag. Stopped at the grocery store for carrots, celery, peanut butter, beef jerky and water, and drove down to the BLM campground at the south end of the park. No “facilities” available. No water. No toilets. No food. BYO everything and pack it out. The temperatures during the day were in the 70’s but at night got down into the 40s. Wearing two pair of pants, 3 pr socks, 4 tops, a hood, a headband and hat, nestled into my sleeping bag in the bed of my Ram truck looking up at the stars (yes I DID see some shooting stars!) until I fell asleep was one of the most amazing things I have ever done. Waking in the middle of the night, I’d look up and see how the stars had changed until I fell back asleep.
I wanted to be alone but not too far from people, for safety. I drove down a sandy 4WD road and pulled off to set up paint camp, draping the truck and ground with plastic. I look at the landscape and somehow instead of seeing the beiges and light greens (I mean I DO see them), my brain sees high-key counterparts. The colors translate into a riot of pattern and energy and I try to get it all down in paint. The paintings that I did there are just a start, an opening of my heart, painting with my hands and full body movement, dancing my art.
