Today was the end of the painting process; however, the story of the mural is actually just beginning, for art is an unending story. I see a painting; perhaps I spend a period of time studying the composition, the color, etc, and I then go my way thinking I have "seen" all that was there. When I return or by chance see it again, I may see an altogether different facet, one that I failed to see before. Time has passed; experience has changed me; and I have gained perspective/insights. New impressions are there for me; new dimensions have opened for me that before I was incapable of comprehending. No need to speculate the thoughts of the 4th graders who will see this mural each school day; hopefully, in some way, one which I nor anyone else could ever fathom, each will be affected. I don't even pretend to know the end of this story. The mural itself was a pleasure to paint; although I thought it progressed slowly at times, two or three hour segments for seven days is not a long time. Packing supplies, cleaning brushes, folding drop-clothes, I left the room as I found it. The keys were returned to administration and I left in a heavy rain. Despite the gloomy weather, I felt a sense of joyful relief one feels when a job is finished.
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