I’m an artist…well, not REALLY….well, kinda, but I’m married to an artist, and his mother is a nationally acclaimed artist…and his sister is a dabbling artist. Is it about creative control? Maybe. Is it ego? Maybe. Or is it that they (artists) see the world in an entirely different way than us? In such a way that they are much more persistent and adamant that their vision is the right one.
Yet, it’s more than that. Being an artist….I’m talking any kind of artist here….is about being a creative. And being a creative is like walking through life as if riding an emotional roller coaster at high speed.
Or like walking around like a ticking time bomb. Or a pendulum that swings from one high to high and from one low to low.
Meaning, when it’s one’s job to wake up, get dressed and create…what happens when life happens? When your boyfriend breaks up with you, when a loved one passes, when you’re stressed about finances; how does a creative create through this emotional mud bath? An artist might stand and stare at a blank canvas all day, idly trying to create for a living, but can’t get past the turmoil to budge. Or, the artist might adapt this seemingly negative energy into a furious inference on to their canvas.
My art is my design. I’m not a painter. I do create. I create wall sculptures…out of wood, sometimes clay. Hey! I’ve sold. I even have the event name tag that says my name followed by “Artist”. Seemingly, life presents itself as an art form all of it’s own. Therefore, there is an artist deep within all of us, no matter the “clause” that follows your name on your name tag.