For serious...
I watch this every few months...
LOVE it!
Love TED Talks.
Once upon a time a girl created a piece of art. It was very mixed-media-y. . . made of wood, bottle caps, lambs wool, and mirrors. A year passed and, although the girl liked the concept, she became dissatisfied with the way it was put together. She began deconstructing it, saving as many of the original elements as she could.
Unfortunately, this girl never went to kindergarten, so she was never taught not to be a "glue monster."
She tore the bottle caps off the wool as carefully as she could, but giant,wooly blobs of glue clung to the backs.
In a moment of rare stupidity, the girl grabbed a steak knife to scrape the blobs. As you can imagine, this didn't end well, but with a few bandaids on her index finger she was back to work.
Then, in an even rarer moment of pure lunacy, she grabbed an exacto knife to resume the glue excavation.
Don't let yourself become a prisoner to anyone's expectations or their lack of belief.
As much as I'd love to be labelled as a "creative," what I'd really love is to be a "facilitator."
I am the queen of unfinished projects. Great ideas that reach various stages of fruition but never reach that point of completion. I'm not so vain that I think this is a problem only I have. I'm sure there are so many other with closets, portfolios, and hard drives full of works-in-progress.
My initial thought was "Someday, when I run a gallery and frame shop I'll have specific shows featuring unfinished work. But what if we as a community of artists gathered to hold some sort of unfinished project collective. . . A place to share ideas and inspire each other. . . Musicians, painters, knitters, poets, etc. . . All media, all stages welcome.
How can I make this happen?
Or am I the only kook with more half finished canvases than shoes?
I'm still playing, but I kinda like this:
I've been talking about opening an etsy store for over a year, but I'm easily distracted. The simple, non-essential things are hardest. I played around with these banners awhile ago. . .
I have a riduclous amount of art supplies. Beyond ridiculous. It's like someone magically fit an entire Hobby Lobby into a shoebox and mailed it to me. I opened it, then BOOM
The more talented somebody is, the less they need the props.
Abraham Lincoln wrote The Gettysberg Address on a piece of ordinary stationery that he had borrowed from the friend whose house he was staying at.
James Joyce wrote with a simple pencil and notebook. Somebody else did the typing, but only much later.
Van Gough rarely painted with more than six colors on his palette.
I draw on the back of wee biz cards. Whatever.
There's no correlation between creativity and equipment ownership. None. Zilch. Nada.
Actually, as the artist gets more into his thing, and as he gets more successful, his number of tools tends to go down. He knows what works for him. Expending mental energy on stuff wastes time. He's a man on a mission. He's got a deadline. He's got some rich client breathing down his neck. The last thing he wants is to spend 3 weeks learning how to use a router drill if he doesn't need to.
Last December I was invited to an ornament exchange. Fun right? And really, there are some cute ornaments out there. But in an all to frequent moment of insanity, I decided that I needed to make my ornament. Like, from scratch. This was decided on December 1st, four days before the event. Obviously I'm really an idealist just pretending to be a pessimist, because there was no way this was going to work...
So now, two months later, I give you the finished product [it morphed into something non-christmas-ornamenty at some point]:
My parents are fairly anti-stuff, especially stuff I can afford, so finding good Christmas presents is difficult. This year my dad got a Weird Al cd and bumpons. Awesome, right?
My niece is six.
We partied hard. . .
The birthday girl and "Pa." Typical shenanigans.
I made this inspired by the party theme.
Copyright laws? What?
Baby Jax et moi. J'adore.