Robert Genn, a Canadian artist, is not only a successful painter, he puts out an inspirational newsletter twice a week. You can see examples of his work and his newsletter here:
http://www.painterskeys.com/
Today's newsletter was called "A Box of Paints". It tells the story of a young women who put everything else before her art most of her life. Finally, many years later, she gains the courage to pursue her painting--and now paints ferociously, passionately.
For many of us, Kelly's story is all to familiar. Many of us come to our art late in life, after a lot of twists and turns in the road.
When we finally set our feet on that path, it's hard sometimes not to
be bitter about the time lost and the passion postponed. There is power in someone who chose their art early and well, especially to those of us who never chose at all.
But then I think there is something poignant about our winding steps, a sense of joy that at least we finally DID find our way. We are determined it will never happen again. That gives OUR work a
distinctive power all its own.
People often ask me how I find the time and energy to write so
regularly and passionately in my blog. When I read Genn's words today,
I realize part of my hope is that I can encourage the people like
Kelly who still have that box of paints sitting in their basement. "I
did it," I tell them, "and so can you."
Those of us who do choose art (or finally embrace being chosen by it!) sometimes get sidetracked by qualifiers and conditioners. Who went to art school? Who didn't? Who studied under the best teacher? Whose work is more successful? Makes more money? Gets into the best shows? Gets more awards?
None of that matter, in the end. Some of that is under our control, but much isn't. It is the external world passing judgement on something inside us. We could only show up and do our best. That's all that was ever asked of anyone.
What matters is that our work says something about us, and connects with other people--no matter how we got here, or how long it took us. Some of us took the direct route, and some took the scenic route.
There was a time, after I "went with art", that I bitterly regretted the lost time and the missed opportunities. No more. I know now that this is an important part of my story, the part that is the most poignant:
I ALMOST MISSED THIS. My art almost didn't make it into this world at all.
I am always aware of what I have to be grateful for.
I am grateful I found out in time what I am "with art". Because I suffered many, many years without it. (And many loved ones would say, "We know, we know....so did we!")
It's not everyone's path, and like the scenic route, it's not a "better" path or a worse one.
It's just MY path. I think, for me, it's made me a better artist that I would have been on the faster track.
