My very first blog has absolutely nothing to do with art. It does, however, have everything to do with life in general. Why are we here? What do we do with the gifts we have? How do we want to be remembered?
At the risk of being boring, this humble opinion of mine hopefully will be shared by some who understand already and can add some insight, and also some who have absolutely no clue and want a few suggestions.
Why are we here?
In my view, we are here simply because someone else wanted us to be. In many cases, we just happened. It was someone else's urge to propagate, with or without thinking of the ultimate outcome. We didn't ask to be born, had no say in our upbringing (to a certain age, that is), and eventually got kicked out of the proverbial nest to make our own destiny. We are doomed to repeat that same routine with our children, fulfilling our own selfishness to see little "mini me" running around and living out our childhood fantasies in the guises of our kids.
Pessimistic point of view, you say? It gets better, read on.
What do we do with the gifts we have?
Not material gifts, no. I mean the gifts that make up the fibers of our personalities. Some people grow to become laborers, some are teachers, some are accountants and some are artists, of course the list goes on. It is important for everyone to realize what their own gift is, even if it is the most minuscule trait that no one else puts any value on. Without the farm working folks, bending over all day long in the hot sun, we would not have our delicious produce. That takes patience, physical endurance and the ability to live a life without lavishness or luxuries.
Without teachers, where would we learn anything? People can be taught outside of the school building, just as well as in. That's called being street savvy, not book smart. If someone had some knowledge to pass on to someone else who was willing to listen, then that value of teaching was worth something. It's up to that individual to know what he or she is passing on is good or bad, and also up to the pupil to accept that knowledge as true and correct and use it in a productive and good way. It is also the duty of the pupil to never cease learning, because wisdom is infinite and everyone's opinion shared is knowledge.
Speaking from my life's experience as a "wannabe" artist has made me realize that I was given many talents that were meant to share with whoever had a liking to what I was doing. I think I can speak for many who are like me, that there is so much expression and inspiration in the world for all the art world members to never run out of material to work with. It is our duty to create, it makes the world see things in a different light. It lets historians tell stories through pictures and objects and gives the critiques something to complain about.
What I am basically saying is that we all need to use up all of our talents and abilities in the lifetime we are given, instead of pissing away hours doing nothing productive.
How do we want to be remembered?
Many people don't think about that question until they get to be too old to do anything about it. Then, it's too damned late, their bodies have broken down, they lose their memories and reasoning and the last years of their lives are spent being alone and miserable.
For many, they have a strong conscience that tells them to make a stand early in life. That stand makes people like them for being friendly, helping out each other, or giving of themselves without monetary compensation. But if we were all like that, would we no longer need help? Nay, people always have a dependence on other people, no matter what. It makes the world go round...
I guess what I am trying to achieve by writing this is to share. I am a middle aged, recent empty nesting, menopausal woman who is trying to make sense of my existence. I feel the need for expression to make significance of my hormonal imbalance. I would love for someone else who is in my shoes to co-sympathize with, come up with some more life revelations that will open eyes to reality and make the world a better place.
That's all for now! Join in...it'll be fun.
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OK, I'm truly honored be the first to join Lizzie's blog. I met her, just once, over a year ago and formed an instant bond with her. As it turns out we are second, or perhaps even third, cousins. Until that meeting I had no idea that we were in this world together but I'm delighted that we are. I too, am a "wannabe" artist. However, there is nothing "wannabe" about Lizzie. She IS an amazing artist. I marvel at her incredible and diverse talent.
ReplyDeleteThere must be something to the gene thing because in reading her blog I just learned that we have so very much more in common than art. We share a very similar life philosophy.
I too, at this stage of my life, am feeling the need to make the most of my time, to share the God-given gifts that have been so generously bestowed upon me...and to be somehow remembered through my art.
Today, as my husband watched football I completed a painting. As I applied the finishing highlights I wondered what would become of it. Will it be enjoyed by someone, somewhere, eighty years from now? I ask this question because last month I received a parcel in the mail that contained a painting created by my great-grandmother, Julia Steelman Nichols, nearly eighty years ago. I was contacted by a retired high school principal from Etna, California,near the Oregon border. He purchased the painting at an estate sale in Etna. In the desire to learn more about the artist he Googled her signature and found her name on my web site and sent me an email. After several conversations he agreed to let me purchase the painting. I was a bit surprised at my emotional response as I opened the package and saw the lovely little painting for the first time. With tear filled eyes I turned it over and there on the back, in pencil, in her hand, were the words: Painted by Julia Steelman Nichols Glendale California 1930. At this point the tears were running down my cheeks. I looked up at my husband and saw the tears in his eyes a well. It was a moment in time that I will never forget.
I saw my great-grandmother only once shortly before her death in 1946. She was ninety-seven and I was four. Yet, somehow I have always felt a genuine connection to her. Throughout my life I have longed to know more about her, especially after I picked up my first paintbrush.
It had to have been serendipity that brought her charming little painting of the desert back to me from the home of a man who passed on, whom I never knew existed, to the kind man who purchased it and sold it to me. It was a very long journey of nearly eighty years to now have a place of honor in our home. I will cherish it the rest of my days.
A footnote to this story is that, Jerry, the man from Etna who sold the painting to me, is planning to visit me in my gallery in November where I proudly display the art of my cousin, Elizabeth Parsi. He will then see for himself this common thread that connects great-grandmother, Julia Steeman Nichols, Lizzie...and me.
Well, Elena, this is my first post. I am glad I could bring some joy to you and your family and help build that thread that runs through your family. I hope we can be friends to the end. Jerry
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