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Sunday, July 29, 2012
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Sunday, July 1, 2012
My Relationship With Art
When I was little, I was enchanted by the drawings I saw my friend Laury do. Since I could not make pretty horses like she could, I assumed that I just did not have that "gift", so I let drawing be something that I did in private and let no one see, because it was obviously not something to take too seriously, or allow myself to be embarassed by, which would happen if anyone else saw my cave-man like drawings. Besides, having been able to read since I was 4, I was now interested in writing stories. But, most of the ideas for the stories I wrote came from T.V. shows I liked, and I was teased for never doing anything "origional". Maybe that wasn't "my thing", either. Then, my friend Laury, our new friend Tonya, and I, got REALLY into "The Monkies", and I was THRILLED by singing. Singing was like flying to me, and so I thought maybe I'd finally found my passion, my talent, my Art. Still, even after the 3 of us tried out for "Trio" in high school, and at least got to be "alternates", since the 3 girls that got picked were older and more talented....I still didn't feel I was "good enough" to think of singing as my Calling. That broke my heart almost as much as having to give up my dream of being a racehorse trainer. Still, the truth was, I was not good enough to make this a career. Singing in the shower's the most I could hope for. By this time, I'd gotten interested in acting, and though I still drew in the margins of my English Lit. notebook, and sang in the car, I thought, "Maybe acting's the way to go". I remember my line of thinking was.... "If I'm going to pursue something, it needs to be what I have the greatest aptitude for. Something I'm obviously 'meant' to do!" But, then, over those last 2 years of high school, I got so much negative feedback regarding any of the things I felt great passion for, such as horse training, singing, writing, acting, building a time machine..." (grin).... that I kept being reminded there was no future in any of these fields, and I needed to find something more down to earch, to secure my future. A lot of people began to recommend that I look into becoming a counselor, since I was good with people. So, I went to college, met a really great guy named John Gray (who was in a rock band out of Atlanta, btw) and got interested in singing again. Also, a new interest popped up, since he was magoring in criminal justice...... I had long daydreamed about being a P.I. Now I was more confused than ever. "No one can make a living as an Artist, Writer, Singer, or Actress, and being a racehorse trainer or P.I. is just too dangerous!"
Then, of course, came the car wreck of November 2nd, 1992, which effectivly took the choice out of my hands entirely. I've been stuck ever since. These are MY "Forgotten Gardens". I have felt sub-par my entire life. I saw that, yes, some extraordinary people managed to achieve great things in the arts, but it must just be the Magical few gifted ones, and since I didn't shine like a star, it was best just to go with the flow, and find something I really could excell at, in order to ensure I had a job and an income.
At the age of almost 40, I have done embarassingly little with my life. I had a bit part in an Internet movie that I also wrote for, based on the T.V. show "Millennium", I sang on the radio once, I sweet-talked my way into taming an Arabian mare who'd been abused and was afaid of people, but I have never ridden her. (my mother would not let me try) I dabbled a little into detective stuff, just enough to piss a few people off, but there's not much more you can do without years of college, experience in law enforcement, and a license.
And now I've come full circle, having had an artist friend try to teach me to paint. Chris' talent intimidated me even more than Laury's, and he so posses the heart and soul and Passion of an artist. This was Obviously always his calling, since it's been his passion for most of his life. This enthusiasum was then turned towards me, since, for some reason, he fixated on me in regards to painting. So over enthusiastic he was that I could not take him seriously. I felt either he was just trying to boost my self-esteem, or that he was trying to mold me into the artist he felt he'd falled to become. Either way, I did not feel I should take painting too seriously. "There is no future in art", I've heard all my life. Even from him. "The time of value being placed on art are long gone." Yet, at the same time, he tried to fan me like a flame, and became very frustrated that I did not take art as seriously as he thought I should. By seriously, I don't mean I disliked it. Quite the opposite. I'd spend hours pouring through books of Impressionist and Abstract Impressionist and Surrealist painters he'd bring to me from the library. I was awestruck at the emotion their work evoked in me. What I didn't take seriously was ME. MY contribution. To me, this was a fun pastime, but that was all. And, besides, in this day and age, in the Big Picture of Life, the Universe, and Everything, how important are pretty pictures painted on walls or canvas? I would not change the world like Vincit Van Goagh, so why allow myself to get sweapt away by something that would only end up breaking my heart, while preventing me from doing what I needed to do to Survivie? Shouldn't my energy be used on something that would have the greatest impact on my society, plus make us some money so that we could survivie? Wouldn't I look like a very conceted person if I went around, daring to call myself an artist and letting it take control over my life?
There was this intangible, yet tangible feeling that I got while living in that house for 2 years. I've long thought it was some sort of Engergy I sensed, like spirits. Or, maybe I was just crazy. But, after recently reading "Living Color", by Natalie Goldburg, I wonder...was that Spiritual experience I had there actually coming from ME? Goldburg actually described a very similar experience, since she is a painter as well as a writer. Now I wonder, was this the effect that art was having on my Spirit? This little hobby that I put very little stock in, may have actually been responsible for the most uplifting spiritual experience of my LIFE! For a while, living at the house, I thought that this.... Whatever I was experiencing, was a message to write some kind of "Save the world" kind of environmentalist book. Again, I was looking for something that was benifit the most amount of people, and or help change a line of thinking that would benifit the world. I never saw my experience as important to me, unless it benifited EVERYONE. This is a life-long pattern. Write a ground breaking book, Introduce a new way to train horses (I came up with the "Horse Whisperer" thing back in the mid 1980's)... being a counselor... etc. My own sense of self-worth is so low that all I focus on is large, grandiose things that will serve others. Being a therapist. Letting myself get swallowed up by art, when I do not feel I am gifted enough just seems so egotistical and selfish. I do not want to be one of those foolish looking "Art snobs", and end up falling on my ass, because I'm not really that good. That's why I never took painting very seriously.
So, what now? Should I try to break out of this mindset? Am I actually a talented painter who's finally been born, and I should pursue this with passion and devotion and "take it seriously"? Or, is that just a foolish idea, and I'm being conceted even to think of such a thing? And, does art even have a Place in the world anymore? Or are we so addicted to our X-boxes and our I-pads (whatever the hell those things are) that no one gives a rat's but what I spend 15 hours straight in the middle of the night to bring to life?
(sorry for any misspelling. the spell-checker's not working for some reason)
Then, of course, came the car wreck of November 2nd, 1992, which effectivly took the choice out of my hands entirely. I've been stuck ever since. These are MY "Forgotten Gardens". I have felt sub-par my entire life. I saw that, yes, some extraordinary people managed to achieve great things in the arts, but it must just be the Magical few gifted ones, and since I didn't shine like a star, it was best just to go with the flow, and find something I really could excell at, in order to ensure I had a job and an income.
At the age of almost 40, I have done embarassingly little with my life. I had a bit part in an Internet movie that I also wrote for, based on the T.V. show "Millennium", I sang on the radio once, I sweet-talked my way into taming an Arabian mare who'd been abused and was afaid of people, but I have never ridden her. (my mother would not let me try) I dabbled a little into detective stuff, just enough to piss a few people off, but there's not much more you can do without years of college, experience in law enforcement, and a license.
And now I've come full circle, having had an artist friend try to teach me to paint. Chris' talent intimidated me even more than Laury's, and he so posses the heart and soul and Passion of an artist. This was Obviously always his calling, since it's been his passion for most of his life. This enthusiasum was then turned towards me, since, for some reason, he fixated on me in regards to painting. So over enthusiastic he was that I could not take him seriously. I felt either he was just trying to boost my self-esteem, or that he was trying to mold me into the artist he felt he'd falled to become. Either way, I did not feel I should take painting too seriously. "There is no future in art", I've heard all my life. Even from him. "The time of value being placed on art are long gone." Yet, at the same time, he tried to fan me like a flame, and became very frustrated that I did not take art as seriously as he thought I should. By seriously, I don't mean I disliked it. Quite the opposite. I'd spend hours pouring through books of Impressionist and Abstract Impressionist and Surrealist painters he'd bring to me from the library. I was awestruck at the emotion their work evoked in me. What I didn't take seriously was ME. MY contribution. To me, this was a fun pastime, but that was all. And, besides, in this day and age, in the Big Picture of Life, the Universe, and Everything, how important are pretty pictures painted on walls or canvas? I would not change the world like Vincit Van Goagh, so why allow myself to get sweapt away by something that would only end up breaking my heart, while preventing me from doing what I needed to do to Survivie? Shouldn't my energy be used on something that would have the greatest impact on my society, plus make us some money so that we could survivie? Wouldn't I look like a very conceted person if I went around, daring to call myself an artist and letting it take control over my life?
There was this intangible, yet tangible feeling that I got while living in that house for 2 years. I've long thought it was some sort of Engergy I sensed, like spirits. Or, maybe I was just crazy. But, after recently reading "Living Color", by Natalie Goldburg, I wonder...was that Spiritual experience I had there actually coming from ME? Goldburg actually described a very similar experience, since she is a painter as well as a writer. Now I wonder, was this the effect that art was having on my Spirit? This little hobby that I put very little stock in, may have actually been responsible for the most uplifting spiritual experience of my LIFE! For a while, living at the house, I thought that this.... Whatever I was experiencing, was a message to write some kind of "Save the world" kind of environmentalist book. Again, I was looking for something that was benifit the most amount of people, and or help change a line of thinking that would benifit the world. I never saw my experience as important to me, unless it benifited EVERYONE. This is a life-long pattern. Write a ground breaking book, Introduce a new way to train horses (I came up with the "Horse Whisperer" thing back in the mid 1980's)... being a counselor... etc. My own sense of self-worth is so low that all I focus on is large, grandiose things that will serve others. Being a therapist. Letting myself get swallowed up by art, when I do not feel I am gifted enough just seems so egotistical and selfish. I do not want to be one of those foolish looking "Art snobs", and end up falling on my ass, because I'm not really that good. That's why I never took painting very seriously.
So, what now? Should I try to break out of this mindset? Am I actually a talented painter who's finally been born, and I should pursue this with passion and devotion and "take it seriously"? Or, is that just a foolish idea, and I'm being conceted even to think of such a thing? And, does art even have a Place in the world anymore? Or are we so addicted to our X-boxes and our I-pads (whatever the hell those things are) that no one gives a rat's but what I spend 15 hours straight in the middle of the night to bring to life?
(sorry for any misspelling. the spell-checker's not working for some reason)
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