Portrait of a Marriage
I Was Trying To Understand
The studio is quiet as I pull out my art journal. Tonight I am fresh out of an argument with my husband. I am frustrated and disillusioned about my marriage.
As I open my journal, I pull all of those feelings close. I ask them for inspiration. I tell my students that’s called “the seed of an idea.”
I decide to make a portrait of us.
I gather my materials.
a piece of old cardstock splattered with pink and green ink
a grey paint sample from the hardware store
an explosion of shapes and designs like the feathery flounce on a Marti Gras dancer’s headdress
a page out of an engineering textbook
a little glitter-encrusted fluttery butterfly
I paint the background black. I yearn for contrast.
Sifting through the papers, I find myself. Find him. Find a way to show myself who we are.
He is numbers and equations. Problems and solutions. Fixes. Answers. He is steady-state in all ways. “It’ll be fine.” Dark gray, medium gray, light gray. This is his palette.
I am splatters of paint and a mess on the table. I am 21 colors of paint in our house (not a one of them gray.) I am explosions of feelings, the exuberant one. I am drama and catastrophe, worry and passion. I am transformation. The caterpillar, the chrysalis, the butterfly.
We look away.
Already 26 years into this relationship. Invested.
I pull out the white pen and scratch and scribble my words on the page. I am angry and frustrated as I begin. I feel the disconnect in my flesh and on the page. I am sad. Why is it like this?
I scribble my words. They pour out of my hand. My mind races and my pen tries to keep up.
I find my compassion. I find my heart. I feel love and tenderness. I search a bin for one more piece of paper (I’d seen just the other day): cross-stitched red hearts. Because, after all, he is all heart, and despite tonight’s fight, I cancounton him.
I see who he is, who we are. I breathe in deeply.
I exhale.
My mind is quiet. I feel more than I think.
Two souls, looking away. Two individuals expressing who they are.
We are so different. My heart longs for a broader color palette.
I feel alone and yet I have found myself. I embrace her.
And I see him. The husband, the father, the partner.
I feel the love. I feel the truth.
I put my pen down.
I feel complete.
