Creativity has always been a common thread running through my story. From the imaginary worlds woven into the landscapes of our unfinished basement growing up to the desk piled high with art supplies and magazine clippings in my last apartment, I need creativity to feel whole.
I’ve cycled through various mediums and outlets of creativity. Throughout various times, creativity has manifest itself through dance, acting, sketching, photography, collage art, upcycled furniture, oil pastels, pottery, book rebinding, acrylics, and poetry writing.
Art was just a way of being for me. But it’s also often been an avenue of freedom.
Acting in high school helped me break out of my painfully shy shell. Journaling through mixed media in college gave voice to an ongoing struggle with depression. Writing on this blog was a lifeline that brought me to a career that feels much more in line with who I am.
This ongoing conversation with creativity has been deeply personal, but mostly a private affair. I filled dozens of journals with writing before attempting to share my thoughts online. I made a few attempts to sell my art, but there was a scant number of interested buyers. When my tentative hopes were met with relative silence, I slipped away from the limelight, tail tucked between my legs. Clearly, I didn’t possess whatever elusive quality the “real” artists had to be successful.
But the success of selling art and the need to create are two very different things. So I kept creating. I made agreements with myself that, for awhile anyways, my art was just for me. It didn’t have to be good. I just had to keep creating. When the bruising of my ego had faded a bit, I kept the possibility of selling art again in my Someday Pile.
Watercolors have been the focus of my creativity in the past two years. I love the collaboration of pigments and water spilling out on the page. Varied by brush size and the timing, the art is a conversation. Learning the language of watercolor was playful, therapeutic. Just me and the paint and the water.
Right now, traveling around the west coast and house sitting along the way, painting has become a part of my rhythm. Several nights a week, in the quiet spaces of my evenings alone, I paint.
Most of these unfamiliar places I’ve been calling home for a few weeks at a time are housesitting jobs. Strangers welcome me into their homes to care for their pets while they are away. This level of hospitality is rare today, but it has been an unspeakable gift.
So when I was welcomed into the home of a Canadian family this October, I wanted to find a way to thank them. When I first arrived in their home and getting familiar with things, they introduced their two cats.
“Harley is 19 1/2 years old. He’s starting to get frail, but he’s really friendly. We kind of think of him as an old gay art dealer. Very posh and snooty to some, (mainly the other cat) but he’s got a heart of gold.”
Just then, the other cat Oskar came skirting around from behind the couch. “And that’s Oskar. I suppose he would be like a reclusive man living in the woods that believes in conspiracy theories. Not that bright, and really skittish, but sweet once he warms up to you.”
So, naturally, my gift to them was a whimsical watercolored rendition of Oskar and Harley.
I didn’t realize that I had unwittingly stumbled onto potential greatness. Why?
Because people love their pets.
And because we all see the animals we love as having human traits.
And to see these pets as the people we know them to be is delightful.
And because the world needs more whimsy and delight.
And now, I’m finding myself painting portraits of other people’s pets several nights a week! Unexpectedly, I stumbled into this niche market. And it’s working. (It may have everything to do with obsessive love of animals and not as much to do with my artistic genius.) But that’s not the point.
The point is that this is the unexpected and funny way that creativity, inspiration, and opportunity interweave. The success was in the declaration to myself that “the act of creating stirs an undeniable, soul-satisfying need, and that alone justifies worth.”
These are the implications of living a creative life. We vision cast and we strategize and we align our lives with where we want to go. And then we find ourselves delightfully caught off guard by new possibilities we couldn’t have imagined.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.