I'm really beginning to cherish my Saturdays spent walking the streets of St. Augustine. Today I began by going to the Thrift Store Sale where I got eleven items for $5.50. Including a beautiful grey suede coat and a trench of my very own. Some men's shirts, some soft sweaters, one shirt from The Lion King Broadway Musical (SCORE!), a gorgeous bright blue with brilliant graphics, and a camel-coloured leather jacket.
Also, might have found some part time work at the House of Ireland (if they need it over the holidays and for St. Patty's Day) and a consignment shop to possibly sell some old clothes.
But that was not the highlight of the day:
I must have spent nearly two full hours talking to this man. He’s an artist and his work was on display at the gallery I went to last weekend. Turns out, he is the artist of my favourite of all the paintings. So I talked to him about the painting and my interpretation (Robert Johnson’s last moments). He asked if I was an artist, I said no. We discussed music (subject of much of his work), I replied I had no gift there either.
I told him I was an actress, so we discussed theatre and acting.
Acting and Painting have so much more in common than I thought. It’s about taking what is inside ourselves and putting it forward for others, not so they can see what we see, but so they can have an experience of their own.
We discussed films, our favourites, and what genres we liked. But we were always going back to the absolute peace that comes for him when he’s painting and for me when I am on a stage.
How perseverance and a leg-up are necessary, and how transformative good acting is. That the best art is probably that which just comes from the moment. That true satisfaction with one’s work is very difficult to attain and that perhaps future work is the better for it.