It certainly is beautiful. Mother nature colored my whole world white last night. I hope this means February is going out with a bang and March is going to come in like a lamb.
It's a light fluffy snow but there seems to be quite a bit of it.
That's a picture of the upper woods off to the side of my house.
This is a view out my front room windows of the front yard.
Zeus is out doing the snow plowing of the driveway now. He's got to get to an early tennis match, I have to get to the gym and Mary and Riley need to get to work and school.
I used to dream of days when the snow would keep me inside, working in the studio. That's just a day dream. Reality is, I have places I have to be and things I have to do and sometimes art takes a back burner.
I don't like it. I would like it to be different but in order to do art I need to keep myself healthy. I need to take care of the basics like feeding my family so grocery story errands are important.
It's not that I don't value my work as an artist I just need to balance it with my life.
When I hear about an artist that spends 14 hours a day working on her quilts I have to wonder how she does that. Sure, it's a job in some ways, her quilts are going to hopefully win her large amounts of money but who does the cooking and cleaning, the laundry, the reading of bedtime stories, the baking of cookies?
Maybe she doesn't have to do those things? I guess it's a trade off.
I take my art seriously and myself,
I have a friend that scoffs at me when I call my studio a studio. She thinks it sound pretentious.
It's a studio. It's not a craft room or a sewing room or a painting or messing around with something room. It's an art studio. It's where the art that I create is created whether it's mixed media or fiber, good. bad or the ugly.
And, yes, I call myself an artist. I'm not interested in whether you consider my art "high" art, "museum quality" art or just bad art.
I create art , therefore I am, an artist.
Where's she going with this, you mutter.
I am not JUST an artist. I am an artist. among other things. If you don't have respect for yourself why would anybody else. I have little patience anymore for people that judge your value as an artist by the amount of sales you have had.
Selling your work is very nice. It's a nice warm cozy feeling with cash in your pocket. Some think this puts the stamp of approval on them.
Where is she going with this, you mutter.
Yesterday, I met a woman, in Michael's that referred to herself as
JUST A PAINTER. She shrugged and said that she does it JUST FOR FUN. She continued to tell me that she never has had an training so her work is JUST SO SO.
It made me sad. I don't know her work and maybe it's something that I wouldn't like or maybe it's something I would love. It's her work, it's something that comes out of her from within.
I asked her if she lost track of time when she painted and she perked up and said yes.
I asked her if when she was finished with a piece she knew it was finished. Just knew it. She nodded enthusiastically.
I asked her why she didn't consider herself an artist and she laughed and said because nobody ever would buy her stuff.
I just shook my head.
I can't change her mind in one quick visit in a store.
I can't change anybody's mind if that's how they want to see themselves. I wish I could. I wish I could remind them that the
"thing" the "essence" that keeps their heart beating, them breathing, their brain functioning, that dwells inside of us, until it leaves, loves to create. Creating is a dance for it, the dance between the physical and the "unknown". That when we create we work as one, fully functioning as one, touching all the layers, the physical, the emotional, the mental, the spiritual and beyond.
That, that space when we have lost track of time is when we are bound to one another for a different purpose.