Avoidance - Part 1. Who Do I Think I am?

 For Mother's Day, I got a gift certificate to a painting party place. So, yesterday, three generations, (me, my son, my granddaughter), joined other party goers to create paintings.

I do not "art". I don't draw, color, paint with any regularity. I get the art stuff out when D is here and we mess around.

That said, the two hour class was delightful. We each produced a sunlit underwater ocean scene.  There were 8 people in the class and 8 colorful wall-worthy pictures at the end.

It was so much fun that I had to ask myself, why I don't do more visual art-y stuff? 

Because avoidance is one of my real talents, I have a lot of different excuses for not doing things. Visual arts have always been hard for me. So, I understand my reluctance to indulge in them. But I avoid writing and writing has always been something that I WANT to do and do better than a lot of people. (How do I even have the nerve to say that?) And that brings me to Avoidance Excuse #1.

EXCUSE #1.

Who do I think I am?

Art is created by ARTISTS. Am I an artist? Am I? Well? Um. I don't think so.  Am I a writer? I want to be a writer. I have wanted to be a writer for the past 60 years. 

Producing stories or essays or poems or blog posts requires a level of faith that one can put ideas, images, feelings, into words in an engaging way. Who Do I EVEN THINK I Am to imagine that I can do that?

 If I just accept my unworthiness, if I face up to the sheer effrontery of my feeble attempts at composition, then I save myself a lot of trouble AND rejection.

This feeling of misplaced humility(?) is perfect for allowing me to avoid taking action. I am nobody, so I should not write that story or poem. I am a mere inkblot in the copybook of literature. 

WHY THIS EXCUSE IS POPPYCOCK

This excuse makes the assumption that all art is produced for the consumption of others. My two hour dip into painting yesterday showed me that the ACT of creating is enough. Even if no one else ever saw that painting. I brought it into being. And that is enough. 

AND this excuse assumes that artists, writers, etc., are preordained to those positions. The excuse assumes that there is a hierarchy to creators. Yes, some people do have innate abilities that are better than others. But there are a lot of published authors, with wildly popular books, who are merely average at putting words together. Their plots carry the books. Other authors produce simple plots but their fluid writing wins over readers. Asking, "Who do I think I am?" before I even attempt to write ignores the truth that one who writes is a writer, regardless of their talent or skill.

So I wrote this post. Hence, I am a writer.

THAT is who I think I am... well, for now, anyway. 

 

 

BTW, if you are looking for other excuses to avoid following your passions, or trying new things, stay tuned. I have dozens of them.

One EXCELLENT book!

Just one excellent book!

History, entomology, butterflies!!! The book chronicles the triumph of a driven woman in an era when women had little power and were given even less opportunities for recognition.

The butterflies, foliage and creatures on this cover were painted by the subject of the book, Maria Merian.  Her observations and art work helped scientists understand the process by which flying insects develop.  She painted, worked, and researched in the mid 1600s.

I do wonder if Merian would have been as successful if she had been born outside of the Netherlands.  Just a thought.   That part of the world had more enlightened laws when it came to women, their rights to property and business, their ability to travel and achieve.

I truly appreciate Joyce Sidman's poetry and authorship.  In this book, she leaves poetry behind, except in the lyricism of her narration, in preference to facts.  The illustrations are archival drawings of the era OR Merian's artwork. 

This book is beautiful.  Offer it to your young person.  Let them flip through it at leisure.