There are times in our lives when a cohesive spirit brings a unity and support we need. We may not understand the synergy of the powerful unity that brings things together or fully appreciate the timing until years pass and we reflect upon where we were, and how we arrived at our present place.
I believe in Grace and by the Grace of God I was carried to Memorial Day 2013. I experienced a spiritual awakening recently as I took in a special art exhibit. For days since, I have been thinking about how I came to be an art professor, but more importantly a father and friend.
The spiritual being within me was in peril in nineteen eighty four. After the passing of my mother and father, some profound career and life changes moved me from a place I did not want to be to a better place for sure.
Before I could appreciate the philosophy I now try to live by, I had to study, go back to school and chart a new course. These days I also try to encourage friends by asking them to imagine:
"Anchor your soul to your passion in the river of life. Study the natural rhythm of seasons. Your art is your life, a grand adventure. Imagine floating the current of time through the changing seasons and enjoy the journey!"
But , before I could float on the river of my time, I had to have a passion. Since I was a boy, art was a thread woven with other threads into the fiber art of my soul. The fibers were not strong and my canvas tore apart at the time of my mother's death. I drifted off course for awhile; without attention to my tattered canvas, I traversed a stormy sea, anxious and in need of Grace, I hoped for a life line to anchor my soul, rest a bit and patch my leaky soul vessel. Once repairs were made, I could get back out on the river of my time to explore things I loved and would love again.
I have heard it said that when the student is ready the teacher will appear. God knows I was ready, to change, and move on in 1986.
One day in 1987 my son Patrick was clinging to my back. He was dressed in red long underwear complete with with feet. He was red from neck down, and attached to me like a ed Velcro patch. On that day as I worked as a gallery assistant to Professor Jim Froese I received some good humor and encouragement. The gallery director at the University of Missouri Columbia paid me a visit. Upon entry to the gallery. He saw me using both hands to hang paintings while at the same time, Patrick was attached to me, his belly pressed against my back, with his arms around my neck. When Professor Froese nick named Patrick the "Little Red Tick". We laughed, I took a break from my work and we talked. That was the beginning of a sharing of interests, fishing and the great outdoors.
The current has been swift, my friend. I did my best in the white water, and did not look back to see you. I am sorry for that, but i got out of the canoe to stop on a gravel bar and enjoy the beauty and soak in the powerful aesthetic of your memorial exhibit at the Missouri Historical Society.
I came early and sat looking at your drawings, paintings and assemblies. It was good to connect with you again my old friend. I wish I had done so before you passed from this world. But without a doubt you understood matters of spirit and I believe we will joke again and maybe take the float trip we talked about but never did.
Thank You Captain Jim
Sincerely,
Terry Lynn Martin
P.S.
I am on course, these days, trying to encourage some students as you did me and I do believe my life is art and I am enjoying my time on a grand adventure!
I believe in Grace and by the Grace of God I was carried to Memorial Day 2013. I experienced a spiritual awakening recently as I took in a special art exhibit. For days since, I have been thinking about how I came to be an art professor, but more importantly a father and friend.
The spiritual being within me was in peril in nineteen eighty four. After the passing of my mother and father, some profound career and life changes moved me from a place I did not want to be to a better place for sure.
Before I could appreciate the philosophy I now try to live by, I had to study, go back to school and chart a new course. These days I also try to encourage friends by asking them to imagine:
"Anchor your soul to your passion in the river of life. Study the natural rhythm of seasons. Your art is your life, a grand adventure. Imagine floating the current of time through the changing seasons and enjoy the journey!"
But , before I could float on the river of my time, I had to have a passion. Since I was a boy, art was a thread woven with other threads into the fiber art of my soul. The fibers were not strong and my canvas tore apart at the time of my mother's death. I drifted off course for awhile; without attention to my tattered canvas, I traversed a stormy sea, anxious and in need of Grace, I hoped for a life line to anchor my soul, rest a bit and patch my leaky soul vessel. Once repairs were made, I could get back out on the river of my time to explore things I loved and would love again.
I have heard it said that when the student is ready the teacher will appear. God knows I was ready, to change, and move on in 1986.
One day in 1987 my son Patrick was clinging to my back. He was dressed in red long underwear complete with with feet. He was red from neck down, and attached to me like a ed Velcro patch. On that day as I worked as a gallery assistant to Professor Jim Froese I received some good humor and encouragement. The gallery director at the University of Missouri Columbia paid me a visit. Upon entry to the gallery. He saw me using both hands to hang paintings while at the same time, Patrick was attached to me, his belly pressed against my back, with his arms around my neck. When Professor Froese nick named Patrick the "Little Red Tick". We laughed, I took a break from my work and we talked. That was the beginning of a sharing of interests, fishing and the great outdoors.
The current has been swift, my friend. I did my best in the white water, and did not look back to see you. I am sorry for that, but i got out of the canoe to stop on a gravel bar and enjoy the beauty and soak in the powerful aesthetic of your memorial exhibit at the Missouri Historical Society.
I came early and sat looking at your drawings, paintings and assemblies. It was good to connect with you again my old friend. I wish I had done so before you passed from this world. But without a doubt you understood matters of spirit and I believe we will joke again and maybe take the float trip we talked about but never did.
Thank You Captain Jim
Sincerely,
Terry Lynn Martin
P.S.
I am on course, these days, trying to encourage some students as you did me and I do believe my life is art and I am enjoying my time on a grand adventure!