The Daily Inch
text and art by Lori McElrath-Eslick
Almost two years ago, a heart aneurysm—the kind that killed actor John Ritter—almost killed me. It was found in a routine heart scan, when the doctor looked closely at a narrow valve I’ve had since birth. This valve thing has never interfered with my life: I run, I yell at my kids, I stress, and I even shovel snow on occasion. (Shoveling is now a restriction. Darn. And I live in Michigan!) With a major artery that had ballooned to the point of bursting, I sat listening to the surgeons talk about the tests I’d have to undergo, what it all meant, how serious this was, the risks. . .and while the talk swirled around, as nervous and as scared as I was, I did the one thing I knew how to do. I found my sketchbook.
I almost always carry a sketchbook in my backpack. This day was no exception. I was sure I’d be spending plenty of time after each test waiting for the next one to begin. As a ”realist artist,” I tend to use my surroundings and my imagination to draw the scene in front of me. But the surgeon’s office was austere. Only books, magazines, the examining table. Nothing inspiring. Nothing calming. My nerves were getting the best of me. Then I saw it—a photograph of a bicycle leaning against a weathered wall. A beautiful photo taken in France, a place I have yet to visit, a place of artists.
Early in my career, I was a greeting card artist for none other than Hallmark cards. As full-time artists for Hallmark, one of my coworkers and I would show each other our paintings and critique each other’s work. Before long, we developed a habit of asking each other to identify our “favorite inch” of each painting. This idea came from being our own harshest critics: Sometimes, we were only happy with an “inch” of the work itself—not the whole work, just the one inch.
In the surgeon’s office, I picked through my backpack; pulled out a pencil, an eraser, and the sketchbook; and began to draw. The photograph of the bicycle reminded me of an etching I once made of a similar scene. The fact that I liked this etching, as I was very critical of my own work, was a rare thing indeed.
As I drew, peace came over me. I relaxed, dreaming of the place in the image. As I drew, I felt lucky—like my fate was not in a surgeon’s hands, but in my own. I sketched till the doctor came by. The entire sketch became my favorite inch—the whole, not just a part.
The surgery was successful. However, three years before my own surgery, my mom had died of a failed operation on a brain aneurysm. That stressor also weighed on me as I found my pencil and let my creativity transport me far from that doctor’s office—to France. The fact that I could draw at all under such mental and emotional conditions surprised me. It also helped heal me.
I was a plein air painter prior to the surgery, and I enjoy this type of painting even more now. When I paint outdoors, I seek out a day with warm sunshine. The sun creates big, long shadows, which make for an interesting scene, and I paint that moment too.
I feel that one of the reasons I survived my surgery is to share with others that our lives are rich paintings, full of many elements: dark colors next to light, smooth next to texture. And when we tap into the present, when we find our favorite inch, our creativity can be such a peace-filled place, despite the circumstances that surround us.
Make time for your favorite inch. Let it become your daily inch, and be thankful for it. I am.
{ 12 comments… read them below or add one }
I love your paintings. Mmmm… lovely! I used to draw and paint a lot, but never mastered watercolor. (These look like watercolor?) Yours lift my heart and make me want to paint again. Glad to hear you are doing well!
Lori,
I love every inch of each of this pieces and feel grateful you’ve shared them and your story. What an amazing gift you have and how wonderful that you appreciate it!
Lori, I LOVE your art! I have seen your work before; displaying on this blog is simply splendid. Keep having fun as I will add your link to my blogs after the holidays. Holiday Hugs, Michelle
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Lori;
How beautiful! And the paintings are breathtaking…I am so proud to know you and to get to know your inspiring art (and words). Hugs! S.
Lori:
Thank you for the inspiration – the words and the art. Beautiful.
Your paintings are lovely and bring light and color into our lives. I’m glad I clicked on your website, otherwise I would have missed your beautiful paintings.
How very kind of you to write, and share with me, your compliments. Thankyou from my heart!
Lori
Oh Dear Lori!
How your words and your artwork have blessed us all! Thank you for sharing your journey and your way of making peace within it, and sharing that peace because of it. I love your artwork and am especially drawn to your lovely river scene. I want to be there in it and you deliver that experience through your painting. My best wishes to you,
Elizabeth McBride
Today my favorite inch of the internet is this page.
Lori! I didn’t know you were a writer as well….What a beautiful message from a beautiful artist (and former roommate). So glad Shutta posted this….
Ruth totally stole what I was going to say. But I’ll just add that the concept of “favorite inch” is fantastic. I love it–thanks for sharing. (And glad the surgery was so successful–what a bummer about not being able to shovel snow, though…)
Thank you.
Blessings to You and Family