Art, when you need it the most.

The past few days have been a struggle, tiny little teeth are reeking havoc on our sleep and the baby’s mouth.  As I’m preparing to show my art this weekend, I feel this flood of ridiculous ideas, things that want to hold me back from sharing,  silly nonsense that is trying to combat my excitement. I know it’s all opposition, a force trying to damper this amazing creative surge that I’m experiencing.

It’s no coincidence that signs of encouragement are everywhere, whispering, we are intrepid, we carry on.  All these little messages reinforcing, pushing me on. I sign into twitter and I read,

"Blessed is he who has found his work." —Van Gogh

I read new posts on blogs I follow and this jumps out of the screen,

“It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.”

-e.e. cummings

You’d think I’d get the message.  And I do. Most of the time.

But on occasion, I’ve felt silly for telling people I’m an artist, when they ask, what I do.  As if, being an artist isn’t a real thing, like an accountant or a nurse.  I think, well, I play around with paint and I design stuff.

As if being an artist isn’t a real thing? Surely, my most ridiculous thought to date.  Because, I know more than anything that it is.  I mean, just look at nature.  Consider how every single day we are given these works of art, in the painted sunrise, the fall trees ablaze with the season’s greetings, the sparkling, blue waters dancing in the sunlight, how mountains take your breath away, the magic in your daughters eyes when you have come to the end of yourself and then she melts comforted into your shoulder, the mischievous smirk of a little boy rolling in the crunchy fall leaves.  The way he gets really close to his little sister, looks her in the face and says, hi pretty baby. It’s all art.

And the thing about art is this, on the days when you fail to recognize it for yourself,  it has a way of reminding you, exactly who you are.

It’s simple. Birds never question their ability to fly. You were meant for greatness.

Find this painting in the shop.

What helps you when you start to wonder if what you do isn’t a real thing? What speaks to you in a way you’ll notice?  Where did you find art today?