I woke up one day and realized. I’m an artist.
It was a very fulfilling discovery. It has lead me to realize a lot about myself.
I was the queen of coming up with hobbies I wanted to do really well. I wanted to be a famous book writer. I’d wish for a while, then pull up the nerve to begin writing a novel. It was going to be 100 chapters and 1,000 or so pages, and it was going to be amazing.
Bravo to the nine-year-old child who accomplishes that.
There was also, for instance, drawing. I would be inspired by a great work and decide to do that. How clear my own picture would seem in my head and yet, when I tried to put it on paper, it was horrible. So again, I would come crying to my mother (Poor mother…), saying, “I can’t draw! I don’t have it in me!”, “I can’t write! See? This story is ridiculous; I can’t write!”, again and again and again…
The truth that I was missing was that to be a good artist you have to love the process.
By loving the process and not forcing out anything just for a final product, the time and practice it takes to become good is not painful.
Real artists show they are artistic simply by the way they look at things, not by the talent they show. It is that artists MUST create something or perish; the byproduct of being an artist is the way we express what we see.
The thing I didn’t realize when I began all those projects was that everyone starts at a beginning. Very few people can just create what they want on their first try; we have to first start with the scribble-like drawings before we make what we see in our heads.
It was when I began drawing and doodling just for the fun of it that I started improving. It was when I began writing simple short stories about things I understood that I began truly understanding how to write. For years now, I have created just because it’s fun and relaxing for me. And then one day I realized I can finally create the things I see in my head. I am an artist. You can be too.