Here I am. Just barely eighteen. It’s Wednesday in the first week of September. I am walking into my first university art class. A first year Bachelor of Fine Arts student. Totally scared, and determined not to show it.
I know two things. I know I want to be an Artist. I know when I draw, time and the world go away. There is pencil, paper, my hand moving, marks on the paper, breath moving in and out of my body, and nothing else.
What I know is not enough to carry me. At the end of the year I transfer to Business Administration.
Here is what I did not know the first time I started Art School.
No one names me. I name myself. I claim Artist for me.
My professors don’t know everything. But if I am lucky, they are generous and share their experience in creating art.
I am not an empty vessel waiting to be filled. I have knowledge, experience, passion, inspiration, belief, heart, hands, and head.
I know what feels right to me, and what is right for me.
There are as many creative processes and paths as there are creators. What is right and true for me may not be right and true for another.
I create from my heart, from passion and love rather than fear (although fear is information I can use).
My feelings are information and sign posts. Use them.
Use everything, whatever shows up. My entire life is inspiration for creation, if I choose to see it that way.
I have choice. Everything is a choice. Not choosing is a choice. Stuck is a choice. Accepting, or not, anyone’s view of my art is a choice.
Here I am. Thirty-eight years old. It’s Wednesday in the first week of September. I am walking into Art School for the second time. Nervous, and it doesn’t matter who sees it. I know who I am. I know what I don’t know, and what I do know. I know what I need and want. I am Artist. Let the learning begin.
In this post:
What I believe: The list of what I needed to know and didn’t, touches everyone, whether we are Artists or not. The learning never stops. The wanting to know never stops. And we are all Creators.