Define Art

Every Monday I have the great joy of spending an hour and a half with at least one of three beautiful artists, all aged eight and younger, Jensen, Faith, and Kadence.  They come individually to take private art lessons, though I'm pretty sure I learn more than they do.  As a commercial artist, my work is very results driven, and though I always enjoy creating it, I wouldn't always call the process FUN.  Teaching kids forces me to have fun.

A few weeks ago, Jensen, trying to paint a parrot in acrylic on canvas, suddenly froze up and refused to try, with the words, "I don't know how.  I'm not a good artist."  I coaxed her through it, but as a teacher, the episode haunted me for most of two weeks, piling another worry on a small mountain of life's challenges.  Then, a few days ago, with a design deadline looming, I found myself circling repeatedly through the kitchen, opening the cupboards, as if something that wasn't there five minutes ago, some magic chocolate something that would cure my anxiety, would have appeared. 

Thanks to the work of Sarah Bran de Leon, CH, Calmwatershypnosis.com and a couple runs of hypnotherapy, I didn't actually eat the cupboards, nor their contents, and finally stopped to listen to the soundtrack in my head..."I don't know how.  I'm not a real artist."  Whoa.  Where did that come from?  Oh, yeah, an online forum, wherein the trippy drughead participants called their work true art, and the rest of us commercial sell-outs.  I shrugged it off at the time, but obviously it had gotten under my skin. 

Some deep breaths, a little EFT (google meridian tapping), and a conversation with God, and I remembered my truths:  Art is a form of the verb to be, as in "How art thou?"...You be, you be an artist...and all artists are fine artists, so long as they are happy.  Whatever one's mode, medium or level of technical skill, each has a place on this planet because every artistic voice is needed.  As an artistic translator, I happen to need (and like) a clear head to understand a client's concept and bring it into the light.  That's part of my purpose on the planet, and I wouldn't have been given the job if there was someone better suited.

So, this Monday, Jensen and I got out big platefuls of paint, a bunch of junk brushes, and painted ourselves silly, with only one rule:  It must not look like an object.  We painted pages of smells, sounds, oddball ideas. This is the one Jensen gave me. 

It includes squealing brakes, bunny farts, turtle burps, cheetahs tumbling down a staircase, and a lot of laughter.  I realized as I hung it on the refrigerator, that I actually really like this piece.  It looks to me like coming to the end of a tunnel, as you just start to see what the light is illuminating, but can't yet make out what the shapes are.   Bunny farts as art.  Who knew?

One other thing I know:  A house is not a home without refrigerator art.  Thanks to all the artists who contribute to the White Box Gallery, and to the parents who loan them to me.  Paint Happy!

Want to read more?  I am also the Thursday night blogger on keystonewomenscircle.blogspot.com , a blog with ideas and insights from a group of women business owners.  Check us out!