Perhaps my most equestrian act is pulling in the reigns of my excitement for the upcoming Christmas holiday.
I don’t take them off of my musical playlist, but for a good nine months, while painting in the studio, I skip through the Christmas songs. A few days ago, my hands covered in paint, (which is always the case so it’s not really an excuse), when Frank Sinatra declared he had in fact “heard the bells of Christmas Day,” I let it play to completion. Up on the horse, in full trot.
Visiting recently, she asked about the horse painting in the bedroom. She wasn’t sure if I was a rider. I explained my reason for painting it. She looked surprised when I began, “One of my favorite restaurants in Chicago was the RL — Ralph Lauren restaurant…” I continued the explanation. “All of the walls were covered in the warmth of these beautiful paintings and photographs. As I sat with my mom, pre-Christmas, sipping on a glass of wine after a full day of shopping on Michigan Avenue, the large horse on the wall watched over us, promising to keep the joy of Christmas alive for every year to come.” I suppose it sounds silly, but if you felt it, that warmth, if you were gathered in that love, that promise, I guarantee you would do the same — create anything to preserve it. That’s why I painted the horse.
I suppose that’s what art is, for me anyway, this preservation of warmth, love. And it’s not living in the past — I don’t want to go backwards. It’s more of a celebration. A celebration of a moment with my mother on Michigan Avenue. Or capturing the kids beachside, in a state of wonderment. Gathering in the freshness of laundry on the line — the promise of summer. Allowing the Christmas songs to remain in the playlist year round.
I guess it’s official, I have let loose the reigns. It’s time to feel it all! I walk out of the morning bedroom and proclaim — Let’s ride!
