Suzy Schultz
Atlanta,
Georgia
Eggshells
I
have been painting eggshells for the last two years. I am not
sure why I am drawn to paint them. Perhaps because they symbolize
such powerful themes and yet are themselves so ordinary. They are
so fragile, and yet so strong. They suggest wholeness, brokeness.
I am comforted in a way by the fact that only the broken shells
have produced life.
Grace
This
painting was started months ago when the weeds in the vase were
green and flowering. Somehow, the painting didn't work. Even with
all the freshness of life in the vase, the painting was somehow
lifeless. Months went by. A few days ago, I pulled the painting
out again. The flowers were still on my window sill, but had
turned to dried sticls, wisps. In working over the painting again,
I started to see things happen that were alive. I was working
over old paint that showed through, gave a sense of time, of
weatheredness, of aliveness. Sometimes I feel as dry and brittle
as these dried weeds that I paint. I have little to give to the
painting. But I start and see things happen. If I can find beauty
in these dried weeds, I have hope that God can find something
beautiful in me. That He will find interesting to study, observe.
I see my flaws. I bring little to the canvas, and yet things of
beauty appear. There is only one word for what happens - grace.
Gethsemane
I
was give an illustration assignment to paint Christ at Gethsemane,
the place where He went to pray the night before He was crucified.
The client, InTouch Ministries, said they would be praying for me
as I painted the piece. I also asked several friends to pray. The
subject is very powerful, and I felt inadequate to tackle it. As
the piece developed, I still didn't know what to do with the
background. I painted the rock around Christ, and found that if I
continued out in a simple line, a cross appeared.
Holding
I
am drawn to images of wrestling, reaching up - perhaps because I
am only now learning how to wrestle, to reach in my relationship
with God. There are so many times He seems concealed,
disappearing into the mist. But every once in a while there is a
glimpse, a revealing of something new, and that keeps me
wrestling, reaching into the mist.