Sheldon's blog: "The reason I draw and paint"

The reason I draw and paint is that in my late teens I met a woman by the name of Carmin, whom inspired me on so many levels it's difficult to describe. From my understanding both Carmin and my mother Sharon both grew up in the same neighborhood as children, and were best friends most of high school. One day Carmin started smoking marijuana. Supposedly a lot of students were doing it at the time although my mother never did. Everything seemed to be going fine both of their grade averages were high as usual. Then one Friday night my mother borrowed the family car and they went to a nearby drive-in theater to see the movie Jaws 3-D. Apparently after a large soda and presumably some popcorn Carmin and my mother made their way over to the washrooms. On their way back to the car a tall man in a gray trench coat and long brimmed stetson hat fifty years out of style asked them if they wanted to buy some magic beans. Normally they would ignore a complete stranger however Carmin giggled, “Magic beans, are you joking or is this just a bad pickup line?” He held out his palm which contain two tiny capsules then replied revealing the upper role of his teeth, “You want them or not ya dumb dame?” “There five bucks each.” Carmen said, “All right we'll take the two of them I could use a pick me up right about now.” She rummaged through her purse for the money then passed him two fives. She then reach for the capsules and he snatched his fist shut. “Remember this ain't medicine this is magic take the tablets before you lay down to sleep at night, and make sure the lights are out or they wont work.” Carmin's long blond hair bounced up and down as she nodded in agreement. The man released his fist as she grasped the capsules. They walked back to their vehicle as the man in the long shady trench coat seemed to disappear into the shadows. Clicking the car dome light on she examined the capsules noticing they both had tiny shapes on them which resembled the outline of a bat. She passed one to my mother but she refused. So Carmin dropped both tablets in her purse. The second matinee of the evening turned out to be a boring flick so they decided to leave midway through and go home. Now this is where the story gets weird to quote my mother, “Carmin had some kind of paranoid schizophrenic break down.” She had stripped off all her clothing and begin painting strange psychedelic pictures between the lines that made up the neighborhood sidewalk with images of flowers, birds, trees, unicorns and portraits of people she had never met. In her house at the center of her bedroom was a highly detailed serpent with blue eyes, and around it was a large circle surrounded by what looked like symbols or some type of writing. An ambulance crew came and took her away in a straitjacket. But before they did my mother Sharon remembers her mumbling things about the colors of space-time and the underlining structure of reality. Every specialist from psychologists, linguistics and art experts came to see this thing she painted to try and decipher its possible meaning. The only thing they could agree on was that they never seen anyone paint in such highly detailed quality in all their life. My mother never seen Carmin again. It was years later that Sharon my mother found out she was a well known local artist, however lived in seclusion and sold her art abroad. With great curiosity I looked through the phone book finding an address near the house my grandparents lived. As Arthur Conan Doyle's legendary character Sherlock Holmes used to say: “It's elementary my dear Watson.” And so it was. I walked the ten mile trek across town and knocked on her door. When she realized who I was she welcomed me in. I feel fortunate to have met her. There was what I can only describe as a feeling of warmth which seemed to surround her. Not only did she teach me how to sketch and paint. She had taught me how to pay attention to what I was doing and not let my mind wander. She told me that focus was the key to both an art project and life in general. I asked her one night about the man that had sold her the magic beans. I'm not sure if I can convey everything in the particular way in which she described it or even if I understood what she told me in its entirety. Carmen said that she somehow accessed through the capsules what philosophers and religious figures such as shaman or wise men have been doing since the beginning of human history, and that every religion on Earth had a different name for the same thing. Such as Heaven, Nirvana, Elysium or Paradise. Her own favorite name for this place or state of being was the Cosmic Library. To put it as best as I could understand, the tablets she ingested those years ago allowed her to tap into what some philosopher named Carl Jung called synchronicity. She was somehow able to communicate or perhaps a better word might be channel all the most famous painters who had ever lived, like such artists as Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo Buonarroti, Vincent Van Gogh, Pablo Picasso and a whole slew of others I can't remember. She said that all people and things existed in a collective unconsciousness, in a type of mathematical matrix like hologram containing the knowledge of all time within a singularity at the center of all creation. Then one day she told me she couldn't continue to teach me art any longer. She was going on a pilgrimage to study transcendental meditation with the Tibetan monks of the Himalayas, to learn about the tree of life as it is written in the Book of the Dead. And that she would most likely not be returning to Canada. I will never be half the artist she is. I'm just glad I had the opportunity to have known her for the short amount of time I had. For not only was she my teacher, Carmin had also been my lover.