20 years ago, 10 years ago, maybe even 5 years ago, marks like this would never have left my pen intentionally. If I had made marks like this, I would have been embarrassed, mortified, ashamed. I wanted to make *beautiful* things, *precise* things. I thought I had to control everything — for it to be “perfect” — in order for it to be acceptable… and for *me* to be acceptable (read: worthy of love).
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Interestingly, I could go to a Museum of Modern Art and accept that *other* artists could make crazy, wild, abstract weirdness, and even be lauded for it, but for some reason I had a different set of standards for myself. I guess I bought into the notion that I had to learn to draw and paint photorealistically perfectly *first*, and *then* I could break away from that and explore other modes of expression…? 🖍
Honestly, it’s been so long, I don’t remember. All I know is that marks like this were UGLY, and unacceptable to me. I NEVER would have made something like this!!! 😂
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And yet all this time, this is what my inner 4-year-old was dying to make! Because my inner 4-year-old is not concerned with conventional standards of “beauty” or “propriety”! All she cares about is following her curiosity!
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Thank goodness I’m more inclined to follow her lead these days. It’s a whole heckuva lot more fun. 😊👍
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