Pixie on my floor – working on a piece with photos of Pixie and her gorgeous belly.  Original photo taken in Venice, CA August 22, 2005; the photo of the photos taken today.

Today was another day of getting messy in my studio and losing all track of time.  This week has given me a unique combination of what has turned out to be all the right ingredients for a creative breakthrough – a visit from a creative soulmate, a hefty dose of solitude with my fiancee overseas, a beautiful journal entry on Tuesday,  a play date with another Christine on Wednesday, and – oddly enough – some very sad news about a friend and some mildly frightening news about my own health.   I suppose I could distill all of these elements to a few specific elements:  inspiration, solitude and perspective.  Inspiration got the spark going, solitude enabled me to dive into it, and perspective gave me the courage to give it my all.

This breakthrough I speak of happened over the past few nights, but is the culmination of all of my work from the past few weeks.  When I first set out on this artistic extravaganza, I knew collaging was the best place to start because it is with collage that I feel the most freedom.  The past few weeks have been, in many ways, my exercise.  Because it had been so long since I painted, I knew I needed to loosen up and strengthen my creative muscles before I pulled out those brushes again.  My instincts were right, and after creating a stack of new collages, the other night I began a new series of collages which are radically different from what I have created so far, and I absolutely love them.  From there I wandered into my painting, and today I enjoyed the greatest freedom I have felt ever since I began painting again about a year ago.  My brushstrokes were much looser, I played a lot more and I tried new things.  I feel so blessed to have already had so many days of hitting the creative jackpot; to continue to feel this tingly sparkle inside of me again and again is simply magic.

I continued to think of my girlfriend back east, and knowing the difficulties she is going through now made me that much more determined to embrace this time I have with as much passion as possible.  I also received a phone call from my doctor today explaining the results of a recent biopsy on a small mole on my back.  I was told the mole is fine now, but is the type of mole that could develop into melanoma, so I will need to go back in to have the entire thing taken out.  I will also have to get a second biopsy on another mole, which may also result in the same thing.  This news is not surprising, as I have already had skin cancer cells removed, but it is still a tad unnerving.  I learned through my experience with my ex-husband’s diagnosis of Hodgkin’s Lymphoma a few years ago not to panic at this kind of news.  When he was told of his prognosis, my philosophy was to only deal with the facts in front of me, and fortunately for us, those facts only got better and better as his treatment progressed.  I feel confident that I have the information I have, that the potential problem before me can be taken care of, and I am now aware of what my risks are so I can deal with them accordingly.

Still, I have to say that for the first time in my life I am really starting to feel a bit like damaged goods.  A quick look at my medical history reveals a scar on my right breast from a fibroid removal, a fractured vertebrae from a bike accident, a scar on my forehead from carcinoma, a damaged ligament in my left knee from a skiing mishap, a new scar from my recent biopsy – which is about to become bigger – and I’ll have yet another scar when I get the second biopsy.  There are many people who have endured so much worse than this – I am probably relatively unscathed compared to most.  But it is strange – to know that within a couple of weeks one wound will grow in size and a new one will be added.  I’m not exactly sure why these two marks – which will amount to less than 2 cm total – got me thinking about this so much.  Maybe because this news came on the heels of another piece of news, which was yet another reminder of the fragilty of life.  Honestly, there are times when I want to shake my fist at God and scream, "ALL RIGHT!  I get it!!  We’re fragile and life is precious!  I’ve had enough reminders!!"

I have grown and evolved creatively in ways I could have never imagined just four years ago (has it really been four years?)  That evolution was the direct result of LOSS – experiencing it firsthand, seeing it up close, and watching so many of my friends deal with it in the most devastating ways possible.  Brain tumors, heart attacks, miscarriages, diabetes, cancer, cancer, and more cancer.  I have seen all of this and felt such sadness and exhaustion, but once I moved through that pain I was that much more profoundly inspired to live the best life I could live.  I do not choose to live my life in fear of tragedy, but I do choose to live with an awareness of the possibility of it.  This awareness fuels my determination to do the best work I can do as an artist, embrace life, live by my priorities and love deeply.  I am certainly not happy to have experienced and seen the loss I have seen, but I am thankful for the lessons it has taught me.  I am thankful that I can look at a day like today, and say with confidence that this is what life is about.  It is about love, it is about creativity, it is about beauty and it is also about scars, and all the ways they remind us to celebrate every single moment of our wild and precious lives.