Roger Fransecky at Apogee. A life of conjunction: And. No more ifs, or buts....! Being a doctor and a sculptor. Being a banker and a poet. Being a lawyer and a potter.
His post set me to thinking about how intimidated we often are by art--and how that holds us back from self-expression.
I believe that everyone has an artistic nature, though so many of us lose it along the way. Our gifts unravel, beginning with the snippy teacher who insists you color in his lines. Now, even more sadly, given the cutbacks all over the country, there may not even be an art teacher in the school to put before the child all the tools of making art--paints, woodblocks, papier mache, wires.
Even the needle and yarns that give teenagers a chance to try their hand at embroidery...as my son Theo discovered. And shared with our friend Caroline, on her heavy, dark winter coat.
Often, we relocate our abilities and our inner selves through a process I think of as akin to echolocation--the way bats or whales orient themselves, or communicate with others, in the darkness of Kentucky caves and Arctic seas. We use a kind of biosonar as a way to look into our own souls, feel out their contours, sense our direction.
Something flowers up from within our deep green depths, reminding us that no matter how long we've been around, we can continue to bloom, continue to surprise, continue with the business of torpor and regeneration. We can continue to offer the world around us our beautiful hearts. Gardeners understand this, but even there, we are hard on ourselves, telling everyone, you should have seen my garden (the work of my heart) last week, or even yesterday. Then it was beautiful.
Echolocation. We bounce ideas off the walls around us--literally. They may be covered with art that has attracted us, or ringing with music we love to listen to...And eventually, we begin to understand that even if we cannot make the art, we can support the artist, nurture him or her, learn a great deal collect....and before too long, we're refining our own artistic self (and keeping that day job).
Now I'm taking pictures. Even that phrase--taking--is something to ponder. My snaps aren't art. But it gives me profound pleasure to see the world through a new lens, and to share the way I see. Next thing you know, I'll be sitting at a potter's wheel, mushing my fingers into wet clay....Sounds like heaven to me.