concerning cancer and art

I'm a painter which is supposed to mean I express things via brush and pigment...or something like that.

I have a confession: until the last 36 hours, I have never "expressed" anything. I have merely reproduced, added a little personal flair and contributed to the already overflowing mass of pretty art and kitsch in the world.

I have searched vainly for a muse and I have finally found her in the most unlikely of places: 5D, oncology, Greenville Memorial Hospital.

My job exposes me to the most raw aspects of the human soul and nature. Modesty is stripped away, dignity lost and faith tested to the Nth degree. Nine months of dealing with death, both physically and emotionally, have created a veritable Niagra of feeling within me--the tension of which grew so great that the creative dam finally broke and the result is two days of incessant painting.

My first piece is intense but still beautiful in ways. My second piece makes me uncomfortable. I have poured enormous amounts of my own self into this painting, almost without realizing it. I'm exhausted after 2 very focused hours of working it but I feel such a release--unlike any I've ever felt where my art is concerned. It could be labeled innappropriate by some. Shocking by others.

I may post pictures eventually but I'm currently still trying to process.