The Power of a Painting
A dear friend bought this piece when she visited me in Dakar, Senegal, during our trip to the magical island of Gorée. For twenty years, it presided over her office. Now, as she refurbishes, she asked if I’d like it and today, I brought it home.
Words can’t quite capture what this painting stirs in me. It’s an electric current of memory – the colors, the vibrancy, the heartbeat of Africa that once pulsed through my days: the golden light, the stark contrasts, the women’s laughter rising above dusty streets, the unshakable togetherness of it all.
That time was alive with purpose. As President of a women’s organization, we shaped Dakar’s social conscience – huge dance parties (of course, you know me!!), Festivals of Taste that ignited the senses, Fashion Shows (with us as models) lectures that sparked debates, art exhibitions demonstrating the huge talent of the country. Every event channeled funds toward vulnerable women and children. Our home brimmed with life, our children thrived, and though I worked punishing hours, I felt alive in a way that defied exhaustion.
Was it perfect? Of course not. Africa never is. Kylian battled malaria at just two years old. Snakes lurked in the garden; our guards carried rifles. A neighbour was carjacked at gunpoint. The electricity flickered out as predictably as the tides. And yes, my well-meaning husband once reduced a week of budget meetings to “Enjoy your coffee morning” – a dagger wrapped in a smile.
Yet I loved it. The chaos, the adventure, the sense that every day mattered.
Now, this painting brings it all rushing back – not as nostalgia, but as a mirror. It shows me a version of myself who embraced life at full volume, who didn’t flinch from contrast but leaned into it. And in its reflection, I realize somewhere along the way, I’ve let a faint veil settle over my senses. Not a shadow, exactly – more like a thin gauze softening the edges of my world, muting colors that used to sing. Life is still beautiful, still varied… but where is the woman who burned with it?
So thank you, painting, for this wake-up call. The veil isn’t permanent. It’s time to shake it off – to step forward, fully lit, with every scar and triumph I’ve earned. To own my past, savor my present, and greet whatever comes next with the same unbridled enthusiasm that is still part of the Julie of now.
Africa taught me: vitality isn’t the absence of darkness, but the courage to dance in the light anyway.
#fabulousafterfifty
#shedyourshitandshine
The post The Power of a Painting appeared first on The Kennedy Connection.
