The Poky Little Puppy

This little book was a staple in my house, as it was in many peoples’ houses. It was a book that was used to gently, or not so gently tease me when I was small. 

 I was a very poky little puppy. 

It was an affectionate and perhaps slightly desperate attempt to get me to look up, to focus, to walk faster, and stop dawdling! The rest of my family seemed to be endlessly charging ahead, onto the next, and the next, and the next activity. 

Later in life, about 40 years of age, I was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder, Inattentive Type. Much of my middle age has been spent trying to manage my errant mind with new found understanding, and to making up for time lost drifting through my almost rudderless young adulthood. 

Frustrating, yes, but ADD is closely associated with having a creative mind. No one really knows why. I think it is because all that wandering brings one to unexpected shores and vistas. I heard it once described this way; if one doesn’t think linearly, (marching forward along a path), then one tends to think laterally, that is, back and forth and side to side. 

A curious feature in many folks with ADD is called “hyper-focus”. This is when my normally wandering mind suddenly gets into gear, and I become completely engrossed in one activity for long periods of time. This is what happens when I make art. 

I have come to recognize that I am a slow, deliberate artist. Each new attempt takes a long process of conceiving, sketching, drawing, transferring, painting, maybe collaging. When I am “done” with a piece, I will set it aside for weeks, months, and peer at it as it sits in the corner of my studio. I glance at it over the rim of my coffee cup, send it sidelong glances as I work with another piece. Then, often, it hits me. “It needs this…”

I will go back into the painting, and it will transform, like a make-over or a mid-life crisis. It will deepen and mature. Having that time to let it hibernate and incubate will often make a good piece into a great one. 

So it goes to show that life isn’t always about the next thing, and the next, and the next. Sometimes we need to stop and smell the strawberries. 

One such slow transformation unspooled during the creation of Exit, one of my latest pieces of art. You can read about the creation of this painting here, in The Saga of Exit.