I logged into Tumblr for the first time in ages, and came across a post from an old friend. I’ve always been a fan of his artwork, but I hadn’t seen any for a few years. I remembered vaguely in college, how amazing he was at storytelling, but mostly in telling stories of a sad nature, and not so much with humor, even though humor was the area he focused on most. The current stories that he now posts are so much more mature than the ones I had remembered. And it seemed he changed his storytelling focus to telling sad stories, the one topic he was best at. When I remember his old work, I remember it as being great, but never something that really seemed completely natural to him. It always looked a bit forced. But these new stories, wow! They are so deep, thought provoking, and feel very genuine. A true testament to how good you can get at what you do by practicing, a little at a time.
Now, I’m finding myself falling into a bit of jealousy reading his stories. I feel the same way viewing others peoples artwork as well. It’s the work that feels very much a part of the person who created it. Something that could never be mistaken as being created by anyone else. It feels as if it was completed by someone who had mastered their craft. For me, I’ve never been very good with sticking to one thing over long periods of time. Never satisfied, always looking for the latest and greatest. It’s been a bit hard figuring out the difference between loving something, versus doing something because I’m good at it. By truly loving something, you end up sticking to the trials, tribulations, and evolutions of that craft. Whereas, if being good at something is the only reason for you to create, the viewer ultimately can sense that… feeling the emptiness contained within (at least, thats how *I* feel about it!).
I’ve drawn, painted, sculpted, molded, sewn, sanded, and written. I’ve programmed, designed, cooked, and planted. Yet I still feel that I haven’t discovered my niche. I guess I should just remember that not everyone discovers what they really love, even after 30 years, but it feels so painful to see people in their teens create masterpieces that show obvious commitment not in skill, but in love. Or, perhaps I’ve already created these things filled with love, but have overlooked them because I felt I was ready to move on to the next thing? (I’ll have to dig up some old work and discover!).
I think a part of finding the feeling of creating something you love, might also stem from outside perception. Oftentimes, you can’t perceive how much love you put into something you’ve made without input of others. It’s that outside eye that helps you discover that you love something… sometimes…? Or maybe they just ‘knew’ it was the right thing for them?
Maybe this is where I start to invest in a life coach?
Art by Laura_the_gal