Borderless World

I first met my painting, “Borderless World,” on my birthday. I accepted the gift with gratitude, for sure, but mostly with surprise and curiosity. It was specifically and spectacularly made for me, and the more I looked at it the more there was to discover.

The painting was commissioned by my husband, Gary, who knew me best and who treasured Chuck and Peg as artists and as our dear friends. This art was personal, not a simple acquisition or decoration. It was love, generosity, and creativity come to life. “Borderless World” carried a vital sense of origin and, when I held it, I felt a corresponding sense of responsibility start to dawn. This art was new to the world and yet I felt I knew it. The painting gazed back at me as a newborn would – slightly unfocused, vulnerable, yet confidently declaring itself, and suddenly here we were, in a relationship.

I’m a writer and an editor and a beekeeper. Swarms of words or ideas or bees seem gloriously chaotic, but there are hidden meaningful patterns. My painting, as well, glows with possibility. Archetypal letterforms burst as light from a wellspring deep within the indigo earth. Generative energy that had been suppressed in darkness for too long rises free in joyous release. Dreams and symbols can coalesce to create stories and images meant to be shared.

The painting reminds me of Leonard Cohen’s song “Anthem”: Ring the bells that still can ring / Forget your perfect offering / There is a crack, a crack in everything / That's how the light gets in.

Every day, this painting nudges me, says hey, that crack is also where the light gets out. How and where and when we shine is up to us. Every day, I say OK to the painting, and (try to) organize my daily chaos so I can imperfectly offer whatever light I can muster. Every day, this painting embodies the encouraging presence of the precious people who brought it to life.

Is the world truly borderless? Or is it that the borders seem to disappear when we make art? My painting and I connect in silent conversation. My grieving grateful heart crosses space and time to find my husband who died too soon. His gift of art, possibility made tangible, remains by my side.

Pamela Kelley
Shawnee, Kansas

Borderless World
Chuck Hoffman + Peg Carlson-Hoffman | Genesis + Art
Acrylic on stretched canvas
76.2cm x 76.2cm [30in x 30in]
2019