Why did you film yourself painting the wall and cleaning the sink?
I’m sentimental. Life feels more fun, more alive, more magical when I see little moments romantically and turn them into artwork. I could just paint the wall while daydreaming and then leave as though it were just another chore. Instead, I choose to paint the wall as I recall what this wall has given to me.
What role did this wall play in my life? What did I impart on this wall? Same for the sink? My story is now part of this wall’s story and the sink will have a hard time forgetting my paint.
The hours and hours of my precious time I spent with this wall creating videos for my business, dreaming of the freedom I would one day have to leave the wall and venture into the faraway world.
This orange wall gave me confidence to teach, trusting my environment was supportive to my lesson. A marketing strategy to catch the eye and a subconscious message of vitality.
The sink was where I stood, tired and covered in paint, washing away whatever emotions surfaced during my creative play sessions. Warm water on my hands, soothing and natural. I squeeze sponges and realize this is the lifestyle I’ve chosen. I choose to crawl around on the floor with sticky colors and flick bristles of brushes across wet fingertips. I choose this over a desk. I choose this over a computer screen. My entire body gets to be involved.
The wall was the backdrop to my grow as a performing artist and teacher. The sink was the private moment after the mess, cleaning up after myself and grounding into reality. The splatter on the sink is another byproduct piece of art, like my drop cloths and rags; happy little accidents I couldn’t create in purpose. In a way, the splatter is like my artist fingerprint or footprint. I was here. I left beyond these rainbow speckles.
I paint the orange wall back to white as I erase myself from this space, leaving rainbow speckles in the wooden floor. This floor is over 100 years old. How many stories have walked across her and who will step into this space next? I’ll probably never know and she’ll never know where I go either. So I roll on her one last time and say farewell and thank you.
Love and Rainbows, Cha Wilde