On Being Cliché

I feel fortunate that I can be working in a creative space, making art, and more specifically my type of art. In the past two years I have learned more about myself than I have in most of my lifetime to date. That has been significant for me. I have had the quiet space to listen to my joys, my fears, my anger, my elation, my sadness, or whatever it is I have to say. I have learned to love myself in ways I had not known were possible.

The creative work that I do is to produce something aesthetically beautiful. I enjoy what I do. I love the art that I make. I am good at it. That is not to say I am the best at it, because I am not. I get frustrated and discouraged sometimes. I have to take breaks. Even so, I love the work I do. And it is work. I have a lot of technical aspects to learn and some of them are difficult. It takes courage to do something new that I have never done before. It takes discipline and determination. And I work every day, even those days I am not on the machine I am working because I am thinking of something I am creating or designing something new or figuring out a puzzle. My art is never far from my attention.

Similarly to parenting, which takes a lot of work and a lot of love, my art has become like my second child. Art is where work and love meet.