Permission to (not) land

Monday 8 September 2008

She made it through!! Harold's all fired up!

I love this sculpture. It is so damn rough, you know? 'Cause I don't really know what I'm doing. It's uneven. It still has tiny little particles of clay attached to the feet because I didn't clean it up properly before it went off to be fired.

But I don't even mind those imperfections. This is the first sculpture I have made as an adult. I am so proud of it :)

This is one of the first things I have painted in acrylic as an adult and I'm pretty proud of this one too :) (Apologies for the not-so-good photo). Does saying I'm proud sound like I'm blowing my own trumpet? Perhaps it does in some weird faux humble way that just doesn't ring true for me anymore. What on earth is wrong with liking stuff that's come from your own hand? I like these two pieces. I'm proud of them. I'm proud of facing blank pages and blobs of clay and seeing what comes out of them because it's bloody scary.

Making art is kind of like a version of listening to the voices in your head and doing what they tell you, except it's your heart and the right side of your brain and in some ways it feels as foreign as if voices were telling you what to do (just without language), and in another way it is so completely and utterly me and couldn't be anyone else. And it's been lying dormant for years. I am becoming myself. And it feels too good to be true.

You know what I am noticing more and more, as I go on ever so slowly allowing myself to see what's inside, to let it out, to give myself a voice in different arenas? I notice how much we people get around refusing to allow ourselves to do things that inside we are screaming to do. And then, if we do allow ourselves to do those life kinds of things, often we feel guilty and the subconscious reverb hits a few days later and we sabotage ourselves because we have ... sheesh, I dunno? Some kind of inherited Protestant work ethic thang that says that doing stuff that makes your heart beat faster must be illegal? Or some sort of stupid measuring scale that says "I don't deserve good stuff because I (a) (b) and (c)"? It's all so limiting and really totally egotistical. I used to wonder why the maxim 'Choose Life' would need to be expressed but I think I'm starting to get the idea, now.

But you know that thing that feels the best about all this newfound creativity? I don't care about what other people think of it as much as I love that I did it. That's where the value lies, which is kinda cool. And even further than that, I don't care how good it is in comparison to everyone else, because I'm not doing it to compete. I can't describe how good that feels ...

So self-sabotage and feeling guilty - stuff that for a joke :)

(Well, stuff it, that is, except for those times when I indulge it ;)


  1. you can pack more into a post than any one person i have ever seen!!!

    i love that you are "proud" of your art! i love that you are indulging in creating art! i love that you are not "competing" that you are just doing it...but it really would be better to say you are just BEING it.


  2. OK, so I was going to say exactly what Lucy said! Good for you!

  3. Well, it looks great from here. Cool elephant feet.

  4. You know something is quality when it makes it through 1700 degree heat:)

    Good to see some of your painting too. Nice.

  5. Aww, shucks. Thanks to each of you :)

  6. What a handsome fella, er, lady!? In any case, it turned out well.

  7. I love the whimsy in your artwork. The world needs more whimsy.

  8. which come to think of it is a strange "reminds me of" from a vegetarian :)

  9. yes, barbara thought the same word i did - whimsy

    both harold and the unnamed painting remind me of leunig's work
    whimsical, nonsensical, but touching a nerve

    your painting reminded me of a seafood platter, octopus, crab, prawns, squid - the bounty of the sea

  10. Oh, dear. Such high praise. Michael Leunig has an invite to my dinner party to end all dinner parties. I love him so. I picture him sitting next to CS Lewis. Or maybe Jesus. Not sure.

    Maggie's impression was that this was a woman, the bit in the middle ws her heart, with her knees on the left hand side. That bird at the top I was tempted to call it a phoenix even though it wasn't rising from the ashes. That's partly why when I saw your phoenix this morning it gave me a jolt :)

  11. yeah. they turn me into big kev :)


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