I want you to see what I'm making with acrylic paint and torn paper... but only sort of.

Remember how I now have an easel? Well, I do, and it seemed wise to hit the ground running. So today I started working on something new.

The piece I started working on is underneath all those words.


There's this thing that happens when you're surrounded by masterful fine artists who work relentlessly to refine and hone their abilities, while you do most of your creative things on a computer, and permission for creative expression is ruled by your aggressive need to reign in your A.D.D. You - and by you, I mean I - squelch too much. Feeling that you're - I'm - not 'allowed' or 'qualified' or 'worthy' to put something out into the world and call it art. (See, I almost couldn't write it. The word "art" is a hard one to come by, for some of us.) And perhaps this is why I'm covering it with words, although I think instead I've covered it with words because it is far from finished and therefore I don't want you to yet truly see it and observe the nuance.

Still, starting on this piece made me deliriously happy. The brushstrokes, unpolished and inexperienced though they were, and the gluing of the torn paper... even the tearing of the paper! All of these activities took me to a different place today, in between the work I did on this computer, and I felt something new. "Joy" is what I think you would call it.

I still hear the words in my mind's ear, telling me that if you want to "dabble in art" you are being unfair to those who devote themselves to it. All I can say is that my efforts at self-expression will never be intended to negate the dedication and perseverance of those who work at mastery. I merely needed to hold something in my hand and render something tangible that could not be erased with an "undo" button. I needed to risk screwing up. And I will continue to risk screwing up. One baby step at a time.

Thank you, Kris, for bringing me that canvas I started gluing things to a year ago, then tucked away, unfinished, behind that shelf in your house. Having that started piece - even such a minor, subtle beginning - and a wobbly, wonderful, gift of an easel from Karine have made my week.

Question for Today:

What do YOU hold back from doing because you feel others can do it so much better?