A week and a half ago, I started working on a painting of Chief Joseph… for myself. My fascination with early photographs surely includes those of Native Americans. The presence. The integrity. The tragic story. I have resisted the temptation to move into utilizing those images until now, and I don’t have plans to continue with this subject, though it certainly strikes a solid chord with me.
I have not allowed myself the opportunity to have the sort of “teacher” that I have realized I would like to have had. The lack of father in my life has contributed to this story in various ways, and only time will tell if I can shift the narrative at some point. Sometimes, I just can’t muster any vision of what that road looks like, but I can say that I haven’t worked too hard to get to that possibility. I imagine that we are capable of supernatural transformations… I have been through one. As I creep up on my forty-seventh birthday, I will begin to more clearly imagine what another would look like.