The Gift of Happiness

Happiness, with all its definitions, often comes quietly into one's life from a direction least expected. Precious, often fugitive, and always a gift, it spreads through one's life in subtle ways. My - our - most recent gift was a diminuitive black kitten whom we found abandoned when we returned last summer from Europe. Rescued, christened Chutzpah - for obvious reasons - and installed, she soon transformed our life with her jaunty golden-eyed insoucience and ultimate absolute trust.

However, we soon discovered that she had been bitten by heart-worm-carrying mosquitoes and was the youngest cat our vets had ever seen to have heart worm – a death sentence deemed to be two years ahead, for there is no treatment for cats.

We decided that her time with us was a gift, that she should live as joyous a life as possible with us - and so it was. Last night, from being a vital, purring, beautiful little cat, within ten minutes, she was dead. Seemingly the heart worms were exacting their toll, not at two years but at ten months.

Now, amid our tears, I begin to measure, as an artist, how the happiness I experienced with her in our home has even filtered into my art. As I sat drawing at the table, she would sit on the next chair, peeping up at me, always happy to have a conversation of purrs and churrs and soft squeaks. Her repose and elegant slumber were a delight to look at when I needed to rest my eyes from the drawing. Her intense interest and curiosity when I was working on matting and framing art helped alleviate the tedium of the tasks. She threaded herself into our life as a golden strand of happiness, incredibly fragile, appallingly brief, but such a gift.

Christmas Cactus, silverpoint, Jeannine Cook artist

White Christmas Cactus, silverpoint, Jeannine Cook artist

Resquiesce in pace et in amore, Chutzpah. I owe these two drawings of Christmas cactus flowers to you.

What flows from outreach

I have been occupied in the other facet of being an artist - reaching out to my collectors by doing my annual art newsletter. It has been an interesting and - in many ways rewarding - exercise as I decided that sending the newsletter by e-mail was far more practical and less costly. The most time-consuming part has been getting all the up-to-date e-mail addresses, an amazingly complicated process in this country. I found that overseas e-mail addresses were far easier to find on the Web.

The rewarding part of this job has been picking up the telephone to many people who own my art, and talking to them. The reactions have been heartwarming and positive, with many mentions of how people like living with my art. When an artist is told such things, it is a wonderful affirmation. Suddenly, the self-doubts that every artist has on occasions are (temporarily, at least!) swept away and the knowledge that somehow, what one has created is enhancing someone else's life – that is pretty wonderful.

The week of work in this change-over for my newsletter confirms again that interaction with one's collectors is so important for an artist. I have more friends whom I met though art that I can count, and many purchased my art before I knew them at all. An enrichment beyond price in life. It is a gift too, in that the give and take between someone who is interested in your art and you, the artist, allows for dimensions and insights that perhaps otherwise would not come about. Usually those moment happen completely unexpectedly. It puts me in mind of a statement I read recently by Pico Iyer in his New York Times blog on "The Joys of Less", a propos of a slightly different context. He wrote that "happiness, like peace or passion, comes most freely when it isn't pursued". It is the same in art. Even when I am busy collecting e-mail addresses, I am given happiness that was unexpected, and thus all the more appreciated.