Out on the Edge Leah Merriman I want the phrase “out on the edge” as an artist to mean I feel trendy, con dent, and maybe teetering on the brink of feeling successful. But the reality of this past year has given new light to that phrase and has me feeling like the frazzled and alarmed character illustrated on the cover of Shel Silverstein’s “Where the Sidewalk Ends. Here I am, desperately hanging onto the edge of what used to be my reality, my beloved concrete slab, the last remnants of a familiar world, staring down into the unknown abyss where I used to go to make my art. For the last 12 months, due to health reasons, my family and I have been quarantining in our home. That’s one year in seclusion with my wonderful, yet also lazy and neurotic husband My second-grade daughter shares my studio space as her dual virtual classroom, which puts restraints on when I can actually work on certain stages and techniques in my encaustic painting process. It’s put a di erent twist on how and when I am able to work. Her school schedule changes day-to-day and between that and a very demanding, busy and somewhat lonely 3-yearold brother constantly challenging my patience and sanity, I have had no way of having any kind of consistent work ow
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