art blogger

Being "authentic" for 2018

Every year I choose a new word to try and live by for the year, a word to concentrate on, a word to make me stretch and grow. For 2018, my word is “authenticity.” This is something that I often struggle with, as there are so many wonderful, talented artists out there whom I admire and, quite frankly, would love to emulate. So, next year is my year to reinforce that, even though I might find my work lacking at times, especially when compared to those whose work I love, I need to remain “authentic” and true to myself. It may mean revisiting some old techniques, some that were very successful for me in years past, but maybe adding a new twist. Or, it may be going in a completely different and new direction. The important thing is to constantly remind myself that whatever I offer, it will be mine, and mine alone, with my own unique stamp on it, that keeps the authenticity real. What about you? Will you join me in keeping yourself authentic? I’d love your thoughts. Wishing all of you your most successful, wonderful, happy, and authentic new year yet!


The yearning

I've got to get something off my chest: lately I've been thinking about my own mortality and what will happen to all of my unsold art when I'm gone. Now, I'm not normally a morbid person, but recently, since I've been thinking about this little issue, it's made me think about how many years I might have left and how I'm spending them. I'm sure you've all seen the famous painting by Edvard Munch, "The Scream," and lately this is how I've felt in my mind. I feel like screaming because all I want to do is paint, and be successful at it. But here I sit, at my regular day job, bored and frustrated because I'd rather be home painting. As jobs go, my day job is not a bad job; I've been working in a political atmosphere for 24 years and involved, in a roundabout way, in the law-making process in Virginia, and I count myself lucky to have found such an interesting job. However, 24 years is starting to feel like 50, and the yearning to leave and do my own thing is so strong it hurts. And I don't even ask to make thousands of dollars (although that would be great!), just a nice living from painting to add to my retirement income. And I wonder: what will my daughter do with all my paintings? Certainly, I hope she keeps some that she really loves, and perhaps passes them down to her own children. My husband and I both had grandparents who painted and we have some of their paintings, and they are some of the most cherished possessions we own. So, I hope I didn't bore you with this little bit of candor; it's rare that I write about such a personal and emotional thing, but it was nice to get it out, to speak of my fears and dreams out loud. Do any of you have similar thoughts? What your legacy will be, and how you'll spend the time left to you? Some heavy food for thought. I promise I'll be more cheerful next time.

"The Scream" ~ Edvard Munch

"The Scream" ~ Edvard Munch