«Perfect», when I let the creative juice flow freely

If you follow my adventures on facebook, twitter or even on flickR, you got a taste of my latest mixed media painting almost step by step.

I don’t know what sparks your creativity, but songs and music is a huge trigger for me. A sentence, a word and BAM a lots of images are being created in my mind.

A few months ago, I told you just a little bit about Pink’s song «Fucking Perfect». This song, this video, moved a lot of stuff in me. Some of these things that belong to the past and you wish to never think of again; but that come back sometimes without any warning signal and spank you violently. This is what happened when I first watched this video that left me breathless, the tears running like a torrent from my eyes, sobbing in front of my computer. How could this be happening ?
When my husband asked me to put some words, to speak about what this song was doing to me, I was uncapable of producing a single word. It is always like this when emotions take over. Words are piling up in my throat, willing to get out, and stay stuck in there forming a huge painful lump. It took me months to write everything down about it. 5 pages got dark of words in my journal. Come back in the past, analyze, thank, appreciate the path that is mine since then and that brought me where I am now. It forged me with a hot iron. Something bad leading to something better ?

The end of her music video acted like my own special prophety. It arrived in my life perfectly on time when I needed it, when my heart was heavy with doubts about what I should do, where I will end eventually. This was the light at the end of tunnel.

I felt the need to put this into images, and this is how “Perfect” was born.
I must confess that Fear invented herself along. Fear that the finished painting would be ugly. Fear of being overwhelmed by emotions that would be too strong for me. Fear to get too attached to the painting. Fear of what you could see in it. But when I look at it, I realized that it is light and discrete. I am the keeper of her secrets, the only one to know what is hidden underneath the layers, under of glitters in her hair, why there are tears in her eyes.

She taught me not to be affraid when a step deflects from what I had originally in mind.
She taught me to embrace imperfections.
She allowed me to go on more serenely.

I still have one tiny thing to do that is linked with her. I have to dare doing what I have in mind…