I have a beautiful painting on my wall. It is an oil pastel by my friend Anne Humphrey called The Beast Goes Walking. Without knowing the title, people see the creature, and point it out to me. They discover it, because it is not necessarily obvious. It is an abstract image. Anne could have more fully rendered the image of the beast, I’m sure, if she had wanted to.

Because the beast is not a fully rendered beast, but actually just a few jagged, dark blue lines, it requires the participation of the viewer to complete or add to the narrative. In a gallery setting, the title would serve as a guide if you were in a hurry or needed a little help, but this one was not difficult. It’s a friendly piece that offers it’s main character without much effort at all.

It has continued to illustrate my home and my life for decades.

The other day, I did a little mixed media piece in which I see a similar blue beast. My beast is going uphill against a strong wind, and in rough terrain. I could make the beast as obvious as I want it to be, but that is not the point. It is not meant to be the image of a thing at all. It is paint and various colored pencils, grease pencils and charcoal.

The image is secondary.

I’d been thinking about the paint and the lines. I’d been thinking about the color spectrum. When the piece was in progress, I thought about it while I was in my bed, and how I wanted to lay the colors next to each other. So while I was not thinking about a representational form, neither was it unintentional.

Once I felt satisfied… once I enjoyed looking at it, I saw the story that I was telling.

I see the beast. I do not feel compelled to make it easier for someone else to see it. This story is about a struggle. It is about my struggle.

I don’t always want to lay everything bare. It’s not that I don’t want to share it. This is how I share it publicly. Cryptically. I open the door but I don’t swing it wide open.