Here's the funny part about creating art. I'll get this tremendous, uplifting idea of what to paint and I'll ruminate about it for a few days....hold on...the dog is sounding like a monkey on the front porch and I have to let her in.....OKAY, I'm back....THEN, I'll print out pictures and sketch and work out the details until I'm satisfied. Once the colors hits the page, I almost can't concentrate on anything else in my life. I HAVE to finish it and I steal every spare moment I can to work on it. THEN, when I've dabbed my last dab and signed my name with an artistic flourish, I'll tiptoe downstairs to show my husband, Chris, and get his opinion.
I DO want his opinion, but I'm cringing inside b/c not only is his opinion extremely important to me, but ultimately I know that his photographer's eye will find something wrong. So, I stand there holding my painting straight out, dramatically squeezing my eyes shut while flinching and waiting for the tone of his voice (even if he says it's good in words, it's the tone of voice the tips me off that all is not well in my painting). If the tone is slightly off to my ear, then we argue about it for awhile and I INSIST that he tell me WHAT is wrong with my beautiful painting and he INSISTS that nothing is wrong b/c he KNOWS that I'll get my feelings hurt.....HA HA HA...and I dramatically insist that I won't and he's ridiculous to think that (although, we both know the truth) and so we dance around the subject for a good bit. Then I finally wear him down and he warily tells me what's wrong and, of course, I pout for a while and then I change or fix the problem in the painting. I hate to admit this, but 99% of the time, he is RIGHT and the painting looks perfect after I've fixed whatever the issue was. *sigh* I'm so difficult and he still loves me....lol
Such is the life of an artist and I do hope for constructive criticism tonight because I know that it helps me to paint better, even thought I inwardly want to be like a turtle and not let anyone criticize my art. (that was a mixed metaphor if there ever was one!) I know that I need it! There must be some sort of spiritual application around this, but I've lost my train of thought because my youngest came down with an "itchy" nose and I had to scratch it for a minute. Scratching a small, wiggly nose has efficiently ended this line of thinking for the day.
Oh, and thanks for all of the kind words of encouragement from all of my friends and family! I love you all!
P.S. If you are reading this blog, you are forbidden from thinking my life is perfect. My cat decided to hock up a hairball on my Pier 1 table runner last night.
P.P.S. I love italics.