Noticing Neon
I believe a painting starts with noticing. After noticing, listening. Once you’re listening… trusting.
I started noticing neon when I accidentally ordered a pair of neon pink leggings. And by accidentally I mean the online photo was VERY misleading when it came to color.
I bought neon laces. We started playing tennis. As I began to notice and listen, Art Center posted about new neon paint they were carrying. It was obvious at that point that I had to go get some.
Simultaneously I started noticing all the traffic cones around town. Slowing down while being forced to merge into one lane, my camera roll was growing with low quality pictures of cones and construction sites.
I whipped out the neon paint and the cones started to take shape. It was so satisfying to add “normal” paint color over the fluorescent neon glow. There’s not much neutralizing work to be done when the heat of neon does all the subduing for me.
Sometimes what I’m led to paint feels so strange and meaningless, shallow and random, but it’s freeing to know it’s not on me to figure out why I’m painting the things I paint. It’s also humbling realizing that I might never know, so what a gracious and healing gift art can be when it all starts to connect.
My absolute favorite, most grounding verses when I’m striving to figure out all the answers are from Psalm 131 (one that is short enough for me to memorize):
“My Heart is not lifted up; my eyes are not raised too high; I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me.”
As I was photographing the finished framed cones in an under construction barn studio, it made perfect sense. The wood frames encasing the cones were blending in with the 2x4 studs and plywood subfloor, connecting the dots from the neon cones to my unsettled soul (is that dramatic or what).
There is such tension in wanting things to be done knowing there will always be more work and lists that follow. Cones will constantly be in the road, somewhere. That’s honestly hard for me to accept! Cones are changing, inconvenient loose ends that we drive by daily.
We want things to be done. Settled. Finished. We scroll Instagram passively absorbing all the perfectly curated homes without seeing the awkward pile of very real bed bath and beyond coupons, empty corners, and half mangled dog toys. Then we look at our life and wonder what’s wrong and we feel so discontent with our non-Insta-worthy life.
Up in the unfinished barn studio that I have been super angsty and impatient about, the cones became a reminder of grace for myself, others, and the process.
I hope when you’re driving now and see a cone you’ll have grace instead of impatience for the unfinished things in life and those working to make things better/smoother/more beautiful, gently remembering we won’t ever be in a “coneless” world.
So Stop spinning your wheels trying to chase the cones away.
It’s such a cliche saying… “trust the process” but it ties in so strongly with me as an impatient, imperfect artist being called to paint a little neon cone for no explanation as to why or if it will sell or be loved or worth my time.
But I can tell you now it’s been worth every bit of my time and energy to do nothing more than what I’m uniquely called to do.
grace and love,
Shelby