When I read the bios of other artists, many of them seem to create art – whether that’s painting, writing, sculpting; whatever the medium – before they called themselves artists.
I have worked in the opposite direction.
I have called myself an artist (and a writer) long before I really dove into the actual work that makes one an artist in practice.
There have always been paint brushes and art pads; blank notebooks and coveted, favorite pens. Whenever I decide to declutter and find old school notebooks, I have to sit down and go through every page looking for art and poetry scribbled in the margins.
I have been creating and making art since I was a little girl but allowed the daily grind of life and the dreaded inner critic to keep me from continuing on that path as I got older.
Over the years, the want to make art never completely went away. There were always ideas that would pop up, random sketches I would create and even a fully finished piece from time to time. I kept returning to art, buying art supplies, art magazines and following artist accounts. I finally decided that, since this want to create never really goes away, and I keep returning to it, it’s probably worth giving it a shot.
After years of sporadic bursts of creation followed by long dry spells, I have been giving art a much larger – and more consistent part – of my life.
“There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique, and if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium; and be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is, not how it compares with other expression. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep open and aware directly to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open. No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.”
― Martha Graham
