Your Daisy Arrangin', Soup Stirrin', Bath Takin' Amateur
In between the preparation/consumption of broccoli cheese soup and a long, hot soak in a bubble filled tub, I retreat to the oversized chair in our middle room to read.
I page through the most recent issue of
Somerset Studio, a magazine that I was drawn to because of my sister-in-law (she is a mixed media artist). While I don't gulp the articles in SS the way I might the ones in Poets & Writers, The New Yorker, or even Oprah, I do drink up the stories about artists and the pictures of their creative work.
One artist who I find particularly inspiring is
Angela Moll. She is a writer and a seamstress. She merges the beauty of words and quilting seamlessly; she creates stitched diaries vital with color, text, and enthusiasm. Examples of her work can be seen on her website.
Another artist that I am in awe of is Dan Eldon. Although he died when he was only 22 years old, he left behind a legacy of photographs and journals. His personal mission statement, "Safari As A Way Of Life," was evident in the things that he created--sketches that were alive with detail, movement and texture; haunting photographs brimming with emotion. He was a photojournalist for Time Magazine--did I mention that? All before the age of 22.
I suppose that I am left breathless, a little overwhelmed by people like Angela and Dan, who commit to their art at a higher level. That it, the art, is as much a part of them as are freckles on their back, their knobby knees, and dislike for sushi. Some people are doers and some people are dreamers. How is that distinction arrived at? Is it a passion for the task? Is a persevering spirit? Why are some people content to imagine, while others are busy working, refusing to accept boundaries?
I think of my own art, my writing, and I wonder about my level of commitment. I love to write, and I do it every day, in one form or another. But I love so many other things, also: arranging a bouquet of gerberas, stirring up a pot of soup, afternoon naps, fried rice at PF Chang's, tickling Mac's back, reading people's blogs, sequencing pictures in a scrapbook, immersing myself in a paperback and a bath.
My commitment is lacking. But maybe that's the way it's supposed to be. Maybe I was only meant to be an amateur. And maybe that's not so bad. Love is part of being an amateur. I write for love and with it and despite of it.
And as Anton Chekhov said, "If you want to work on your art, work on your life."
I am certainly doing that, with every snipped stem, dash of garlic, dog-eared paperback, "Mom" infused moment of the day.
And that's good enough for right now. It really is.
I page through the most recent issue of
Somerset Studio, a magazine that I was drawn to because of my sister-in-law (she is a mixed media artist). While I don't gulp the articles in SS the way I might the ones in Poets & Writers, The New Yorker, or even Oprah, I do drink up the stories about artists and the pictures of their creative work.
One artist who I find particularly inspiring is
Angela Moll. She is a writer and a seamstress. She merges the beauty of words and quilting seamlessly; she creates stitched diaries vital with color, text, and enthusiasm. Examples of her work can be seen on her website.
Another artist that I am in awe of is Dan Eldon. Although he died when he was only 22 years old, he left behind a legacy of photographs and journals. His personal mission statement, "Safari As A Way Of Life," was evident in the things that he created--sketches that were alive with detail, movement and texture; haunting photographs brimming with emotion. He was a photojournalist for Time Magazine--did I mention that? All before the age of 22.
I suppose that I am left breathless, a little overwhelmed by people like Angela and Dan, who commit to their art at a higher level. That it, the art, is as much a part of them as are freckles on their back, their knobby knees, and dislike for sushi. Some people are doers and some people are dreamers. How is that distinction arrived at? Is it a passion for the task? Is a persevering spirit? Why are some people content to imagine, while others are busy working, refusing to accept boundaries?
I think of my own art, my writing, and I wonder about my level of commitment. I love to write, and I do it every day, in one form or another. But I love so many other things, also: arranging a bouquet of gerberas, stirring up a pot of soup, afternoon naps, fried rice at PF Chang's, tickling Mac's back, reading people's blogs, sequencing pictures in a scrapbook, immersing myself in a paperback and a bath.
My commitment is lacking. But maybe that's the way it's supposed to be. Maybe I was only meant to be an amateur. And maybe that's not so bad. Love is part of being an amateur. I write for love and with it and despite of it.
And as Anton Chekhov said, "If you want to work on your art, work on your life."
I am certainly doing that, with every snipped stem, dash of garlic, dog-eared paperback, "Mom" infused moment of the day.
And that's good enough for right now. It really is.
posted by Cate at 1:56 PM
10 Comments:
cate, another beautiful and well writen post.
you said: Love is part of being an amateur. I write for love and with it and despite of it.
well put. for love and despite of it. The only bad thing about reading such good words is that I am always afraid that a year from now I will be sitting there writing something and the next thing I know those words will be on my paper like they were mine! Plagerism or flattery? Either way I will be thinking opf them for a long time.
Rita,
I just sent you an email! Like this exact moment. How about that?
And I do the same thing you do--in fact, I was just thinking about that--how you see something and it resonates and then you truly forget that you ever saw it anywhere and believe it was your own idea and use it in your writing. This is my greatest fear! That, and run-on sentences, which I seem to celebrate around here!
Thanks for the comment--it means a lot to me.
It is more that good enough. Lots more.
(I love the New Yorker!)
xoxo
Cate,
Your level of commitment will shift when you're ready. Don't rush it. You've got the talent, so don't sweat it.
Tanya
Amateurs with passion and continued engagement have enough experience to appreciate the paid pros as they need to be appreciated.
That, and run-on sentences, which I seem to celebrate around here!
And that was the cue to snorting laughter. I never say this, but lol at that one.
And I just emailed you back. Again!
Thanks for the thought-provoking post.
I wonder about my own level of commitment (and achievement) and some days feel a little "less than", yet I also have this sense that I am being who I know how to be, open to exploring new pathways and my process and my journey are probably quite okay.
Thank you all for your wonderful, supportive comments. Every single one of you makes me think!
I'm sorry to not answer you all individually tonight--I've not had a very good day and I'm tired. But know that I'm grateful for your visits and your words.
Why are some people content to imagine, while others are busy working, refusing to accept boundaries?
Such inquisitive thoughts... this totally resonates with me right now.
And, Cathie, you and your writing -- anything but amateur! Your passion is so evident. Perhaps it's more difficult to feel committed when balancing so much in life? I know it sometimes feels that way to me.
Speaking of sister-in-law . . . thank you for the generous comment, Melanie! I just feel--so many directions, such little time. I know you struggle with the same :) It's nice knowing that I am not alone.
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