The Path

“The Path” is a painting that uses the theme of a path. I have recycled  this motif for many years. In this particular painting, a meandering path is moving upwards as its ascent is discernible by a slight change of shape and color. A startling one hundred eighty degree view of the Pacific Ocean stretches out, yet underneath your feet, a shocking two hundred foot drop off looms. This intense vast spectacle confronts the viewer like a slap to the face. In contrast, a small modest bench and a three foot high fence is all the barrier there is separating the viewer from a plunge into the turbulent sea. 

For me, the theme of the path parallels the journey of flowing through time as a human being experiences their individual life. Space is indicative of the dimensional world we weave in and out of as we travel to our individual destinies. And our emotional and psychological life construes the meaning it has for us.

”The path” is always stretching ahead and backwards. It is a curious, interesting, beguiling force as it signals so much more than the obvious. Unlike a highway with road signs and clear markings, a path, on the other hand, can wander, lose us, or get us lost.

Often I need to have poorly marked paths, not roads, to proceed in life. “Take a chance!” The gambling voice calls! Or sometimes I choose a seemingly easy route only to finds it perilous or even lethal if I pursued it further. Then, on the only hand, I have thought, “What the hell!” “Let’s do something really brash or dangerous.” Only to discover I wasted time and energy and should have stayed home and watched television instead! (P.S. I don’t have a television, but, no matter.)

For instance, once I was intrigued by a gentle deer path that was behind the tiny Catholic church in Marshall, near Tomales Bay. I drove past it every day on my way to my studio on a ranch three miles away. Finally, thinking I must explore it, I pulled to the side of the road and meandered through high grass, sage brush and granite boulders enjoying the brilliant sun. But to my horror ,the trail disappeared on the edge of a sharp cliff. The momentum I had was enough to propel me into space, but I grabbed a bush before I went over. I thought I would have a heart attack. “Aha! I won’t do that again!” But guess what? I have done that again in other ways, and other times.

I have read accounts that often people at the end of life have regrets, remorse, and disappointment that they didn’t live an authentic existence and now it is too late. But I guess the people who lived their truest selves and made foolish mistakes or errors in judgement are dead and aren’t around to be interviewed.