I remember a friend of my father's who was an illustrator. Ken Hultgren worked for Disney, and when we lived in California he would come visit and talk to me about drawing.
"Leave spaces in the trees for the birds to fly through."
He helped me graduate from a solid crayoned oval of apple green, to a more mottled spectrum of colors, even black. The other thing I recall about him was that he wanted a quick and painless death, while he was still young enough to enjoy life. He died on the golf course, so I guess he got that wish. Mr. Hultgren gifted me a very fine box of pastels to encourage me.
Paper and pigment did not turn out to be my medium, but his influence has shown up in my fabric choices. Ten variations of blue are more interesting than one.
The other day a friend was trying to voice the wide palette of sentiments that accompanied a recent decision. A single word couldn't contain even the similar emotions, much less the contradictory ones. It has been true for me. When our twins left for college in Europe I was excited, and scared, and impressed, and lonely. When my own mother died I was bereft, and relieved.
Maybe we do ourselves and each other a disservice when we expect our response to be singular. God has gifted us with a whole box of sensations.
Which is generous of Him.
