First off, the movie was Maria Full of Grace. A really good movie. I felt her desperation.
On the Artistic Temperment
So, I like to read Wil Wheaton's blog. He writes well about what ever moves him. Some things I just don't understand, like poker and Fantasy Games. And that is ok. What I find most interesting about him is the way he writes about the artistic temperment, if he even means to be doing so. Of course he is an artist. He is an actor, a writer, a creative spirit in probably all that he does. And he is acheingly insecure.
I was thinking about this as I was sorting laundry. (today is House Blessing day, thank you fly-lady ) Anyway, I think that it is interesting that insecurity is an integral part of being an artist. Here we are talking about a very accomplished guy who is talking about what a loser he feels like. If you have ever spent any time around artists or reading about artists or being an artist I think you know just what I mean. The more insecure the artist is, the more s/he has to prove, to her/himself, to the world. And really, if you think about modern art and how seemingly incomprehensible it can be and how smug the artist seems because no one understands it... doesn't that just reinforce for the artist that no one understands? Validating an insecure ego? I know this sounds too psychobabble-ish, but I find it really interesting. I could go on into the unfinished, but that was supposed to be my senior thesis, not a blog entry.
Ok, so turning on myself and my insecurities, my biggest problem with creating my art (painting) is that I don't want to be insecure. Not that anyone does, but isn't it all about what you do with it? So I spent so much time getting over my life and the things that have made me who I am, and I have nothing that I have to say in paint. Curious, eh? So now, my creative energies are channeled into my domestic life. I cook (the Mister tells me all the time how cooking is an Art while baking is a Science which is why I am better at the former,) I sew (there is not much more functional or beautiful than a colorful quilt) and I knit (because my feet are cold.) And I think that I find so much joy in these things because there isn't much to be misunderstood. Perhaps I feel it necessary to remind the Mister and his brood how spoiled they are because I pour my love out on them in such a rich way, but it is as much for me as for them to know that I put me into what I do for them. Does that make sense? I know that every parent feeds their family and makes sure that the children are warm. It is a satisfying act in and of itself to love your family. For me, I need a bit more to validate what I do. My insecurity is that what I do doesn't matter because it is just what I am supposed to do. So, I strive to make our life a bit more personal. It matters that I love you enough to make you a pair of socks, write a poem onto the back of a quilt that I made with fabrics you helped pick out, bake you a cake that was droopy in the center but tasted good. I love you enough to give you pieces of my soul to hold in your memory of our lives together. And maybe my time and talent doesn't mean as much to them as it does to me. And I am secure enough to be ok with that. But I do want them to understand, I do want to be validated and I do see value in my creative process and the sanity it gives to me.
Funny how we all feel so different and alone and isolated and yet we all go through pretty much the same stuff. Funny how that doesn't make it any easier.
Back to Real Life
I finally got off my duff and quit complaining and rearranged my sewing room. Well, the Mister did the muscle work, but I feel much better about the flow of the room.
You might think it looks like chaos, and it is a bit still, but now I know where I want to put a couple more shelves and another lamp, maybe two. All of a sudden I have a place that I am wanting to hide in. I was feeling overwhelmed with the disorder that was the previous arrangement. The Mister's Mom can verify what that was like. But we were still able to accomplish a good bit in that mess.
An artist needs a decent studio.