On another subject.
I often laugh at myself as I feel the energy and passion take over my body when I talk about art. I am in love with the process, in thought, action, emotion and exploration. I work with kids at a local school teaching an art program. I find it very interesting that kindergarten through about second grades deal with color and enjoy it fearlessly. For that matter they will draw anything with total gee! As they get older they seem to question their ability to see. They're either comparing their work to the kid next to him or to the designated artist in the class. You know him...The one everyone says is so good. It seems so magical that, that kid has it and well you don't and so the learning stops. The child's ability to see life and enjoy his personal perspective and interpretation diminishes. The passion that is needed to learn more about art is passed over to hopefully find something else to be passionate about.
I have met so many people as an adult, who, after almost a life time, have been over taken by their passion to learn something new, something wonderful like art. Art classes are filled with folks overcoming fear and replacing it with desire and passion because it feels wonderful. So how does this tie into todays post you ask? Why does a pencil in my hand, paint on the end of a brush, new canvas, an old shoe, a broken down truck on the side of the road, a face get me excited? I think it started long ago in a classroom, with a teacher, loved one, just letting me go, to do what I loved to do and encouraged me to find my passion and learn more about it. I love that I am excited about the edge of light, the depth of shadow, the beauty of shape and the value it has had in my life. So I say thank you thank you thank you!