Sixty-something woman shares ruminations as she plys the latter third of her life with the caveat that age entitles her to be absolutely outrageous whenever possible.
Friday, May 18, 2012
And this is the (maybe) finished product.
Heard a wonderful Ted.com talk today on how so many of us were discouraged from pursuing our creativity by peers and teachers who put our work down. What is that about, anyway? Does it help folks who are small feel bigger, do you suppose? In my young days, it was considered bad to praise a child. This would lead to prideful behavior, swelled heads, bragging. How sad is that. It is still hard for me to take a compliment, especially where my art is concerned. It came from somewhere deep inside, I listened and plugged away at it. And suddenly, there it is! I feel peculiarly graced by the ability to take some chalky stuff and paint a picture. Strange way for a grown-up to spend her time, n'est-ce pas? Oh, wait. I don't qualify for that moniker. I am really only five years old when I do this kind of thing, in love with fingerpainting.