Queeniebean123's Blog

“He who works with his hands is a laborer.  He who works with his hands and mind is a craftsman.  But he who uses his hands, mind, and heart together is an artist.”  -St Francis of Assisi

Here, in the  middle ages of my life, I find myself wondering what went wrong.  School and the possibilities of various careers always seemed  vague and uninteresting, despite all my parent’s urging.  I did try.   I only really got excited about making art, looking at art, hanging around with artsy people, and doing things which kept me connected with the earth and happy, like photographing wildflowers and riding horses.  Why couldn’t I get interested in nursing, accounting, or business administration?  How does that work for other people… do they have a puzzle piece I just wasn’t given?  Do they become as absorbed in economic theory as I do when making a sculpture?  I am sure there are artistic business executives, financial planners, and truck drivers.  They seem to find that balance between career and art, or even find creative ways to do  their jobs, though that is not the same for me as MAKING ART.

I tried, I really did.  I have a degree in Animal Science from Montana State.  Don’t really know why I picked that one… maybe because I really enjoy being around animals and livestock, and everyone assumed I would one day be a veterinarian.  Though Organic Chemistry, Calculus, and Principles of Nutrition were a great struggle for me to even pass, so this did not work out.  What I remember best about the college years were that I was so fascinated by all the horses, sheep, cattle, wildlife, and scenery in Montana I was constantly sketching and drawing it, which led to some residual income while in school.  I still didn’t get it, and always felt I was not good enough to make it as an artist… so much yet to learn.  I have since worked at myriad jobs and owned a couple of small businesses, with varying degrees of success.  I suppose I am reasonably good at my current jobs doing some medical records work at the Hospital, and billing for a counseling clinic- at least I have employment.  My only real complaint is that the work is so mundane… the key is to do everything exactly the same way every time, over and over leaving no detail out.  I do my best to stuff myself into this square little box, but I keep leaking.  I don’t like boxes, or repetition, or exactness.  I like funky, whimsical, caterwampus, and asymmetrical.  And colorful. 

I have been so busy trying to stuff myself into the square hole and survive on its wages, I forgot about the business of living.  Of looking at the world in textures, colors, sights, and sounds.  Noticing clouds.  Appreciating the story told in people’s faces.  For some reason I have been denying myself permission to be an artist, to truly embrace the process.  Everybody has always looked at my work and said “You could sell this stuff!” and I have, in fact, sold anything I ever wanted to sell.  Now at 47 I find myself getting up in the night to make sketches, jot down ideas, and start projects.  I have signed up for a watercolor painting class, and arranged to petition the artist’s co-op to carry my things.  I cannot figure out if this is an artistic epiphany, a mid-life crisis, or simply indigestion. 

In my animal science classes, there was once an interesting segment on animal behavior.  The instructor described a scientific experiment which has haunted me ever since, even more than the nightmares about going to the trigonometry final without any clothes on!  It went like this:  A dog was let into a room containing nothing more than a low fence dividing it in half.  The floor contained an electric grid.  First, they electrified the floor on one side, shocking the dog.  It quickly learned to jump over the divider to safety.  Then, they switched on the opposite side, and the dog learned to jump the other way.  Then, those heartless meanies electrified both sides of the floor.  Frantically jumping back and forth, the dog could get no relief from the shocks.  So eventually, it just laid down and gave up.  In time, the scientists opened the door to the room, enabling the dog to exit.  And what do you suppose it did?  Nope.  It just continued to lay there on the electric grid and accept its punishment.   Seemingly, it thought there was no other way.  I believe that unfortunate dog has much to teach us.  We endure stuff we just don’t have to endure.  I am not quitting my day job now, but I am taking free license to act like an artist, produce work based on inspiration and whim, and get busy trying to market it.  Next week, I will  show my work to the local gallery owner.  The internet offers many possibilities.  I’m even giving myself permission to be a bad artist, because I will have so much fun trying.  Have I lost my mind?  Maybe.  But my heart is finding its voice.