What I am pondering today: It is an interesting philosophical exercise to consider the joy and flow one can realize in the making of art juxtaposed with the not infrequent challenges of creating.

Let’s start with just why do we do this? There’s the practical aspects.  Some of us need the money.  Selling art pays the bills.  For some it’s a hobby, something to do in our spare time or in retirement.  For some, it’s also more than that, way more. We MUST make art, something is busting out and we have to listen to it.  Despite the costs.

Artist Wayne White notes that “..a lot of art is ditch digging.”  It’s when that activity or work you saw, shiny and bright, with new artist eyes,  becomes the tedious and time-consuming thing, a sometimes painful thing.  Emotionally, mentally and physically.  Why in the world do we voluntarily get burnt, splintered, sprained, poisoned, strained, exhausted, cut and all manner of other annoyances just to make the art?  Then we put it out there and get judged, critiqued, pitied, ridiculed, compared, diminished and trivialized by the public – and other artists for that matter.

OK OK, that was a bit dark (sometime it just comes out that way).  There are plenty of people who are nice to artists as well.  We do like to hear positive feedback.  And we (need to) accept the sacrifice as a consequence of living with both arms, wide open in vulnerability.

The other reason has nothing to do with other humans:  it’s to join in the flow, to connect to the infinite.  Completion.

Oh yeah, and to get this stuff outta my yard.  Seriously, there is art … everywhere.  Drop by, buy something.

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