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.