Art and Soul: An Artist's Reflections

By Leigh Fitz

The beauty of nature.

The connection of shared experiences.

The encouragement of an artist's perspective

on the joys and the challenges of life<

• Language: English
• Publisher: Leigh Fitz Author artist
• Release date: Nov 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9781952943119

Book preview

Introduction

Within the pages of this book you will see glimpses of my soul through my art and writings. My story speaks of my musings, my discoveries, my beliefs, my dreams, and my nightmares of loss and woundedness. These are words and brushstrokes that haven’t always come easily as I’ve reflected on the deeper things of life, through the seasons of my life. With this in mind, the writings and paintings are presented in seasonal sections, although they may not always fit neatly into those categories, as the thoughts and feelings are timeless.

At times, doubt looms over me, obstructing my way forward. When there are no words that adequately reflect the thoughts of my soul, I paint—and through the process of creating, I find my voice. When my brush-strokes fail to render a resemblance of my emotions, I write—filling in the spaces, enhancing the interpretation of the painting. My artwork intertwines with the reflections of my heart, bringing both art and soul to my narrative. My hope is that you feel invited into my story and inspired to pen or illustrate your own.

God, may the words that I write

and the brushstrokes I create

be acceptable in Your sight,

and bring a smile to Your face.

I lay them down before You,

as my offering of gratefulness,

knowing, full well,

I can do nothing apart from You.

~Leigh

OIL PAINTING, COMING HOME, ©2021 LEIGH D. FITZ

Summers

OIL PAINTING, CALMNESS ON THE COAST, ©2019 LEIGH D. FITZ; WRITING, 2008

My Story

I held tightly to the word calmness as I painted while standing on the Oregon Coast. I was taking a plein air workshop, which is a French term meaning in the open air. One of the instructors encouraged us to choose an emotion or word that each of us wanted to convey in the painting. I attempted to portray calmness on canvas, while taking deep breaths to calm my spirit, desiring to be free of any anxiety or the pressure to perform.

I haven’t gone back to touch up this painting, nor do I want to. Like many days in the book of my life, it’s not perfect, nor does it feel finished; it is merely an impression of that one day. I will bring the learnings I gathered and take them with me, incorporating them into my future work.

This happens in life, too, although I don’t completely understand how our minds, our hearts, or our souls collaborate to form a person. I can’t comprehend the infinite ways nature and nurture come together to create an individual. I can only speak for me.

This isn’t a book of persuasion or the touting of my beliefs, writings, or artwork, but rather my responses, impressions, and reflections on my journey of life. I share about the crutches that have aided me as I’ve limped along, the Light that has illuminated my paint strokes, the people who have spoken compassion and wisdom into my spirit, and the God who I believe witnessed and accompanied me every step of the way. This is my story, but my hope is that you’ll see bits and pieces of your story, as well.

My own life changes like the weather and sometimes gets out of control before I even realize I’ve strayed far from who I am or whom I long to become. When that occurs, I understand that I’ve lost my story. I often allow circumstances and/or others to control my self-worth, leading me to the conclusion I’m not good enough, smart enough, pretty enough, and . . . certainly not worthy enough to be loved.

I don’t want my story to be about trials, loss, rejection, pain, or doubt, but the reality is all these things seemingly show up from nowhere, intent on destroying my confidence. I can’t control the troubles of the future or even the present, but I can arm myself and decide how I will react or let them shape me. I have to decide whether to give something or someone the power to murder my dreams or yank me from my focus, luring me down a road full of negativity.

Sometimes, I have to begin again, rereading the last couple of chapters, to prompt me before I get into the rhythm of my narrative. Because I’m a visual learner, painting has aided me in the assimilation of thought and memory. I have to decide how I want to live within my story each day. I resonate with these words I once read, This is my only life. And it is a great and terrible and short and endless thing, and none of us come out alive.

How do you want your story to end? What’s going to be the takeaway for others who read your life? Does it matter?

It matters to me, so I find it helpful to push aside doubt and think forward a bit to imagine what I want my week to look like—or my year, and often my entire life. But I don’t live alone; I have a husband. I have adult children, adorable grandchildren, and I want their stories to be interwoven with mine, to add strength to my narrative. I strive to listen to their stories while still being true to who I am. It’s a delicate balance. I ponder their lives and the individuals they are becoming. Because of my great love for them, I desire each one to be a prominent character in my journey—to have chapters about their lives and how they profoundly touched mine.

Have you ever wished you could have a do over? I have craved the chance to start all over again in hopes of doing it better. But I’m coming to appreciate the words of C.S. Lewis, You can’t go back and change the beginning, but you can start where you are and change the ending.

Did your story go on without you, and you’re no longer the main character? Are you living out somebody else’s dream? I invite you back into your own. I will pass along to you some advice that has stuck with me since I first read it—a phrase that prompted these musings: Pick up your pen. This is your story now.

So far, it’s been a good story, my life: heartbreak, restoration, being uprooted and replanted. It has been full of weeping, laughter, redemption, struggle, loss, hope, love, discovery, recovery, acceptance, a marriage, kids, grandkids, close friends, failure, and success. The good news is I’m still here, so my story isn’t finished. I want to keep writing new chapters and I want to come up with a good ending.

According to Donald Miller, author of the book A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, a great story is about a hero who overcomes an obstacle to get to a goal. So, what to do when you are in your sixties and tired of having hurdles to jump over? Jumping hurts my bones! I’m slowing down, doing less, caring less about things and hopefully more about people, but somehow that doesn’t provide a page-turner ending. So now what? Should I increase my time spent painting, write more, and create time to be more involved with family and friends or volunteer for a cause? Relying on or retelling what I’ve done or accomplished in the past doesn’t necessarily make good content for the next chapter or future episodes.

At age eighty-five, when asked what his greatest achievement was, Henry Ford simply responded, The next one. Maybe age doesn’t matter. What I value is to continue to keep living a life worthy of the God I believe in, loving people well, and encouraging others in their pursuits and dreams. I never want to stop leaning fully into each day. I don’t want to sit in the bleachers watching someone else, or give up on what or how God may want to employ me in the future. In other words, there’s no retirement when you’re writing your story. You keep living out your life, page by page, chapter by chapter, until there isn’t any more time or space left for words — and the final period stands alone.

OIL PAINTING, STILLNESS, ©2005 LEIGH D. FITZ

Be Still

Several years ago, while visiting Prague with my husband, JD, I noticed a gentleman out in the middle of the lazy river, sitting very still in an old boat. There were no signs of a fishing pole in sight, no cell phone, no one else with him. I imagined him peacefully sitting in stillness as he waited for the sun to rise. Once I returned home and began painting this image on canvas, the verse, Be still and know that I am God, ¹ kept cycling through my thoughts. I wanted to capture the essence of stillness with my brush strokes.

Being still in our fast-paced and demanding world is certainly not an easy—or a highly valued—practice. Our electronic devices distract us, and we confuse their interruptive busyness with personal fulfillment. Social media beckons us to respond, our work demands time, and there is constant pressure to keep up and not fall behind. Production is revered and being still is sometimes equated with laziness, wasting time, or a luxury for people who have excessive free time.

I have discovered a more peaceful option.

To experience this stillness, with its absence of noise, is a primary reason for me to get out of bed in the morning, hopefully before the sun rises. No one will be calling or texting, there will be no demands from others, no conversations that need to be maintained— just a simple and quiet sense of calm. There is a letting go of yesterday’s concerns in the hushed silence of a new day. This is a time of in between, when the night is slowly fading, but the morning hasn’t fully arrived with its responsibilities and to-do lists.

The word for still in Hebrew means to slack, cease, stop striving, let alone, stay, just be, but it is derived from another Hebrew word. This word, rapha, means: to mend, to cure, heal as a physician, repair, and thoroughly make whole. I imagine that when I’m still before my Creator, there is a mending that takes place that I’m not even aware I need. This stillness provides preventive health care for my mind, my body, and my soul. I step aside from life in order to be made whole before I step back in.

In this sacred space of quiet, I ask God to settle my emotions, keep my worries at bay, and give me ears to listen to His gentle whispers. I ask Him to bring to mind any mistakes that need to be made right. I believe a supernatural stirring occurs as my heart is softened towards others. This transformation seeps into me as I take a second look at yesterday’s reactions—the situations in which I was critical, hurried, or harsh. In stillness with God, there is a healing of my spirit.

At these times of quiet, I’m reawakened to the fact that God is present, covering me with a blanket of peace that stills my soul to its core, even in the midst of many cares and concerns. He is a mender of my fear.

It’s an extraordinary thought that God and I can sit alone. Other times I think, How could I have the audacity to presume that the God of the universe, the Omnipresent One, chooses to be alone with me, listening to my thoughts as we confide in each other? I feel as though He breathes into me an inner calm. He longs for me to trust in Him as He escorts me back into a life filled with relationships, tasks, general busyness, and even the mundane details.

I consider one of my life’s greatest lessons is the value of creating space for stillness—to invite it in, silence my soul, and turn down the world. Over the years, I have developed a desperation for this peaceful time of in between. It’s no longer a discipline but a get to. Even when I’m slammed with stress and when the pressures of life weigh me down, God beckons me to a quiet place of peace. I believe He is offering it to all of us. We need only to take the time to silence our cell phones and be still.

At my age, managing a boat on my own might be a bit tricky, but my comfy recliner sure works well.

Be still and know that I am God.

(Psalm 46:10, NIV)

---

1. Psalm 46:10, NIV

OIL PAINTING, TUCKER, BY MY DEAR FRIEND AND ARTIST LINDA HUMMEL; WRITING, 2016

Tricks My Dog Taught Me

Determined that my puppy, Tucker, would be the best-trained dog ever, I taught him all kinds of tricks, such as to sit, stay, high five, speak, whisper, and play hide and seek with toys. Getting him to come was the hardest, especially when he was off-leash and outside. He would much rather chase the neighborhood cats than obey me—hard to imagine, I know! I have been frustrated by his inconsistent obedience, but he has also captured my heart and I