An unthemed blog of thoughts and mutterings. Join me for a few mutterings of your own.
This is my "master" blog, through which you can access all my other blogs and websites.
I hope you'll leave a comment when you visit!
I spent the evening, as I have spent every evening lately, struggling with a painting for my children's book, Brave Benny's Animal Alphabet. Nothing was going right and I was berating myself. "Why am I doing this? I am not an artist, this is stupid."
My husband was out in the backyard trying to fix the brakes on my car. He came in looking depressed and upset. I told him what I'd been thinking, and he said, "I've been thinking the same thing, 'why am I doing this? I'm not a mechanic!'"
Of course, he who has had no official training as an auto mechanic has successfully fixed both our cars on numerous occasions. And I have painted some acceptable pictures, in spite of my lack of training as an artist. "Folk Art," my artist friend, Heidi, tells me.
Is a mechanic someone who gets paid to fix cars, or is a mechanic someone who fixes cars? Is an artist someone who gets paid to do art, or is an artist someone who does art? My intellectual answer and my emotional answer are not always the same.
Mary Stebbins Taitt image credit: me, Benny and the Quetzalcoatl for my book Please note: My computer is at the repair shop and has been for 2 1/2 weeks and I don't know how to do this on my iPad, I can't seem to upload pictures.