Most of us had crayons put in our hands before we went to school. There was nothing better than getting that new box of 64 Crayolas, especially the one with the sharpener in the box. We learned to color inside the lines. I liked that because it was neat and cleaner that way. Maybe that was the beginning of my minimalist style. I don’t like clutter in our house or in my art.
For years I’ve practiced drawing and painting things as they are. I’ve written about needing patterns to follow. Give me a picture and I’ll do a decent job at drawing a very close duplicate of it. That has caused me to shirk calling myself an artist. We do that to ourselves too often – deny our talents and abilities.
Maybe it takes age to make you say I’m going for it. Because that’s what I did. I looked at some photographs I’ve taken, got out my acrylics, brushes, and water and told myself just let it go. I sketched a rough outline and used bolder colors than the actual colors of sand and sea. There is nothing perfect or precise about it. As I looked at the final product (shown above) I liked it. I didn’t care about size perspectives or what probably was ‘wrong’. That was the moment I called myself an artist.
It doesn’t matter that others have been telling me that for years. It matters what I believe about myself. Isn’t that true with you?
At 64, I can finally say I’m an artist because I let go of the shoulds and self-imposed rules in my head. I stopped coloring in the lines (even though I still like the precision of that).
What title do you need to allow yourself to claim? These aren’t titles for our desk or office door but the titles you have felt sounded bold or boastful. Maybe you need to listen to others or maybe you need to let go of the rules in your head. I’m still learning. This is only a start, I hope. A start in believing in myself.