It all started with this image from my friend Zach Sawan. (who is really a friend of a friend but we’ve hit it off, what with being fans of paint, magic and maybe a little mayhem and moonlight.) Young artists like Zach give me great hope for the world to come as I grow older…that there are old (yet young) souls among us who may give their youthful energy to the task at hand of keeping the flame of creativity aglow in this world. You can see a little more of what he’s currently up to here.
He shared the above photograph at his instagram page and I was instantly captivated. He had created A Magic Wand.
“I have to make one of these!!!” I cried. And of course, Zach replied “It’s so necessary.”
And it IS necessary. This spring we are grieving the loss of many trees from our green space who have lost their battle with the Emerald Ash Borer beetle. We now have a new landscape to contend with and I am wandering around attempting to figure it all out….
A long, long, (LONG) time ago, I began this blog. Not sure where it would take me. And it pretty much began with this image:
This tree which we so adore, anchoring the back bit of our little slice of the world. The Grandfather Ash.
Well, sadly, it too has fallen to the combined efforts of age and the emerald ash borer and sometime soon, it will be coming down, in spite of our best efforts to shore it up and keep it going.
But back to the Magic Wand…. I wandered around the yard picking up some sticks here and there which might fit the little brushy end I had laying around awaiting such a task as becoming The Magic Wand….
And I soon made my way around back to where Grandfather Ash still stands. He had loads of sticks to offer. Many of them not as brittle as you’d think, being like ‘real wood’, not just crackly old stick which might belong in a campfire.
And I chose one.
I whittled and worked it into place, eventually coming up with my own Magic Wand. We all have tools that help us be who we are really meant to be. Perhaps a healer has a hand that can sense a fever, or a stethoscope which magnifies the beating of a damaged heart (just another form of worldly magic, I say), or a builder with a sense of angles and slide-ruler style tools to make them all work. The pastry chef with his or her French rolling pin to make things just so for pie, or the proper chef’s knife to create that which nourishes. We all have our tools. For me, the paintbrush is that tool. And today I outfitted one of my brushes to be a little different than the rest.
It was fun.