Some days feel so far from where I meant to be at this time in my life. I dream of creative exploration but spend too much time navigating the ‘real world’. I took a wrong turn somewhere. A Personal GPS would be handy right now.
As a child growing up in a home where mental illness existed I learned early on that anything that took attention from my parent made me “bad”. To answer a creative calling was the most suspect thing of all. “Useless. Selfish indulgence.” Something to fit in after the ‘real’ work was done. Which, of course seldom happened.
Claiming my creative voice was first and foremost a declaration of independance.
Regardless of who we are and any early conditioning we experienced, we have to be very brave to make art. By its nature, art is a different way to see things and different always challenges someone, somewhere.
Personal and unique are essential qualities of any creative process and its product. But art exposes the heart of the artist.
And that’s scary. To see the venom some people can spew I only have to explore social media. It takes an extremely courageous heart to step into the line of fire totally exposed.
I do lots of creative things. Painting, knitting, quilting, collage; but it’s in writing that I find the edges of my fear. Art needs to skate that edge.
I have two novels partially completed exploring topics that frightened me away from the work. I put the work away fearful of what “they” would say. My heart felt too tender for blunt blows.
Am I brave enough to go looking for that missed turn?
Suddenly, possible regret for the road not traveled is more frightening than anything “they” might say.