Monday morning I got a text from one of my students that read, “I was at the Maine Art Gallery in Wiscasset yesterday and saw so many of your wonderful students’ work on the walls.”
I was very happy to hear this, having had a pretty dismal week. I responded, “And you should be there too,” to which she answered, “I’ve been there all summer!” Oops.
Rejection
There’s a high-profile event I was in for a long time until suddenly I wasn’t. There are lots of reasons this can happen, including that I might be sending them bad selections, the current juror might not care for my work, or they simply have too many other artists in the same category (media or geographical). I try to not take rejection personally but it can be an emotional and financial hit. I’ll still apply every year because in the deeply mysterious way of jurying they might suddenly decide I’m the flavor of the week again.
Since high school, we’ve all found ourselves on one or the other side of rejection—we’ve been the ones consoling our peers or we’ve been the ones consoled. When we’re the recipient of rejection, all the comforting phrases fall flat. (My new favorite, which gets right to the heart of the matter, is, “that’s some bulls-t!”) Despite all evidence to the contrary, we know in our bones that it’s really something we did, or some way we fell short. And it’s easy to extrapolate from “I wasn’t good enough for that show” to “I’m not good enough for anything.”
I was as philosophical as I could be when I got that rejection, but let’s be real: I was still cranky. However, since the start of summer my life has been in an uproar. I’ve had COVID, unanticipated abdominal surgery, and now my husband’s illness. I’m not getting into the details, but his situation is and was very serious.
Having experienced real loss, I’m now wise enough to know that this is not truly an annus horribilis. However, neither has it been fun or conducive to getting any work done. What is clear to me is that the earlier rejection I thought was a curse has turned out to be a blessing; I could never have done that event, let alone done it well. If I’d known in February what my summer would be like, I’d never have applied at all, but we mere mortals aren’t really blessed with Second Sight. (And thank God for that; who really wants to know the future?)
The blessing of unanswered prayer
The Bible is full of examples of unanswered prayer, starting with Jesus asking, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me.” But like any sane person, I’d rather pass on the tough times. Extreme challenge may help our resilience but it can also break us.
I really hate the poem Invictus; almost every line of it is idiotic, indeed almost psychopathic. We’re not the masters of our own fate; instead, we survive our struggles only with the help of others. Sometimes, as in the case of that show at Maine Art Gallery, it’s a student jarring me out of my bleak thoughts. Two weeks ago, it was two saints who helped when a workshop student was injured. This summer has been a reminder that I’m surrounded by great human beings—my family, friends, church family, students, dog-walking buddies and more. Thank you all.
Registration is now open for workshops in 2026! Reserve your spot:
- Canyon Color for the Painter | Sedona, AZ, March 9-13, 2026
- Advanced Plein Air Painting | Rockport, ME, July 13-17, 2026
- Sea & Sky | Acadia National Park, ME, August 2–7, 2026
- Find your Authentic Voice in Plein Air | Berkshires, MA, August 10-14, 2026
- New! Color Clinic 2026 | Rockport, ME, October 3-4, 2026
- New! Composition Week 2026 | Rockport, ME, October 5-9, 2026
You are welcome! And you need to know that you, through your teaching, and also just being you, are a blessing to many! Me included!
Thank you, Lynda.
Good post Carol. I’ve also had a number of unanswered prayers that turn out to be a blessing. Hoping you see continued healing. I used to be one who handled all problems and challenges alone (no matter how huge), while simultaneously taking care of everyone else. Now (with an increasing number of problems) I live with equally resourceful neighbors and we all help each other whenever we can. I’ve learned to accept help with gratitude. The community is healing in and of itself! The lengths people went to to help the person injured in your last course were inspiring. And (not at all diminishing that admiration), it was heartening for me to realize that I believe everyone in the course would have done the same had the tables been turned!
My friend Bob said that some of us are “trauma-eaters,” meaning that we see our job as ameliorating others’ distress. That can get way out of hand to the detriment of the person doing it. And I agree that community is healing in and of itself.
And you, my dear friend, are an answered prayer to me. I was floundering and you taught me to love to paint and how to do it correctly.
Thank you, Mary. I miss seeing you.
I hope life eases up for you soon, especially for your husband. There’s nothing to make us feel quite so helpless as a spouse in pain; for both your sales I hope this passes quickly and resolves well.
Thanks, Casey. I’m hoping he’s recovered enough to go to Sedona with me in October!
I am sending you light, love and healing…for all the times you have guided me with light, love and healing when I was struggling with painting and life. I hope the Fall segues into a more peaceful time for you and spouse – and your painting.
Thank you so much, Rebecca!
As I was standing on Frazer Point marveling at the view this morning, I realized, “I probably would not be here without Carol. She told me about Schoodic .” Last week, I had a wonderful day painting with a friend I met through Carol. And let’s not get into how Carol made me a freak for mixing my own greens with every color on my palette but green!
You have answered many of our unsaid prayers, my friend.
You’re very kind, Mark.
I hate that you have had such a tough summer. I hope you know you are loved and appreciated. Come visit me in Albuquerque if you need a break.
Thank you, Annet.