I hurt myself today. I have no idea how, but I have a bum leg at the moment. So I am hobbling around, dragging my foot here and there. Been there, done this. I will be fine if I stop trying to hobble. Ignore the pain is my motto. So I will. I was working on one of my “art signs”. It is stuff I make that is cool and affordable. This is still a work in progress. Then, I turned to wash a brush and I saw the spider plant babies I put in a jar just a week ago. I saw they are already growing roots! Nature is so amazing.
My wandering mind made me think about how we are all a part of nature. We have all grown roots too. Things are crazy for me now and I am extra introspective. I realized how I am at a crossroads. I have no idea what will happen next, but I do know what happened before this. I started thinking about my artistic roots. I knew I was going to be an artist when I was a very little girl. I would watch my dad make stuff. He was a maker and I wanted to be a maker too. He worked with vinyl and these shiny rivets. I remember him making these weird, wood plagues when I was of preschool age. His brother was a painter. I knew this too. Even at four years old, I knew art was my destiny. I got their genes.
Shortly after this, my dad left with a “pretty woman”. I didn’t really get to spend time with him again until I was 13 years old. That year, he bought me an oil painting set. Despite our distance and alienation, he knew I was one of them. He knew. During that year I spent with him, I painted on the front porch of his house. Then, I was told I had to leave. The “pretty woman” wanted me gone. So I vanished back to the mother-land.
Despite the transplantation, I kept painting. I wish I was in documentation mode back then. I would love to see some of my first awful paintings again. I have no photos though. So sad. There was a drippy, cat eyes painting which someone bought for about $20. I also remember a pastel drawing of our dog “Yum Yum”. That was cool. I really thought that was GREAT ART! LOL There were all kinds of paintings and drawings that were made during my high school days. One cliché “swans on a lake” was sold for $50. I thought I won the lottery!
I can remember the very first “real” painting I did. I mean real in the sense I REALLY felt like an artist. I was fifteen. I did a copy of “Jesus on the Mount”. I don’t have a photo of it. I wish I did. However, I know it was so horrible. I had turned it into a near circus scene. The colors were very bright and garish. Despite this, I thought I was a REAL artist after the completion of this work. Some religious person bought it from me and I was so, so proud. I think that was the moment my art career started. I had accomplished my goal. I wanted to be an artist and this one painting made me feel like I was on my way.
Now decades and decades later, I want that feeling again. I want to feel like an artist and be on my way once again.
I am not religious, but maybe there is some kind of symbolism here(?) Say an art prayer for me.
Also, THINK ABOUT YOUR OWN Art roots.
How did you become an artist?
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