a few months ago now, we painted pottery one rainy Saturday afternoon. And for type A me, pottery can be a freeing yet hard thing at the same time. My heart cries out to do something messy and expressive and non-measured but my hands know straight lines and color schemes and staying within bounds.
Art can be defined in so many ways but "real" art is not defined by symmetry and obsessiveness and straight lines. Or maybe it is? Maybe art is a lot more about letting yourself be free to expression in whatever way suits you best. Eloquent word pictures like those of my favorite word artist, author Shauna Niequist, or beautifully flowing mediums spread over canvas like my friend Lisa whose pictures spot the office I work in. I believe both of these women to be real artists.
I am finding that it really doesn't matter what art looks or feels like to other people, art is first for ourselves, then for the community around us. I am even finding that to be true in the art of writing my thoughts regularly throughout journals and on this space. Even if the only set of eyes to view my words are mine, which I hope is always the case with the journals, the art comes first in the expression, then the interaction and interpretation.
Okay, so I confess, I haven't even peered at a blog since April 17. But today, yours is the first I opened... trying to catch up with my friends' life too... So I'm going to sit down and read, and be refreshed by your words. But seeing this cup really did remind me... aren't we all in the stage of "grow"? Thank you for being in my garden, and growing with me as a friend.
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