An Artist Kind of Person

Winter is hard on me, sometimes even brutal. It is usually a season of hibernating in depression, wishing I hadn’t taken all of the daylight I had available a few months ago for such granted. But I’ve been feeling a strong desire to create again after Marie-Noelle Wurm shared this video with me a week or so ago. And also, bonus, now I have a new favorite song.

Again I remembered I am an artist kind of human. I tend to remember, then forget, then remember this again & again.

I am afraid of forgetting.

I have been so happy on the days I’ve done creative work. I always am & yet, still, I forget. I’ve felt so much more like myself, so much more content, so much more okay.

Art gives me a feeling of purpose – something I have been searching for desperately. For so long, so long, the feeling of being just utterly lost at sea.

So much time spent wondering, “What is even the point of me?” And now I have an answer. Not the answer, but an answer & that is not nothing. That is definitely, definitely not nothing.

My art is unlikely to do anything for the world – but it does a lot for me. I’ve been reading a book called Make Your Art No Matter What by Beth Pickens. She says, “The quick & dirty is this: Artists are people who make art. My deeper understanding is that artists are people who are profoundly compelled to make their creative work, & when they are distanced from their practice, their quality of life suffers.”

My quality of life has been suffering. I’ve been having phases – watercolor regularly for a chunk of time two years ago then infrequently, photography way way way less than I used to when I was younger & it was something akin to a lifeline for me, writing off & on (always) &, more recently, bonsai – living art – & this blog.

I have been very distanced from myself for a long ass time.

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