From One Artist to Another

          I consider myself to be an artist. I have for most of my life. I knew by the time I was seven that I was going to be an artist because it's what I saw myself doing as an adult. I have always been above average, I guess you could say, at drawing and being creative, and with each new year of my life, I was reassured by others that an artist was what I was meant to be.
          It didn't take long before I stopped telling people "I'm going to be an artist when I grow up," and started telling people, "I'm an artist." You see, ever since I can remember, I have always felt like an artist. The earliest memories I have at three years old are consumed with thoughts of viewing myself as someone creative. I paid attention to detail and noticed things that others didn't.
          I don't know for sure if reincarnation exists, but I do believe it is very likely that I was an artist in a past life. Even before I could write my name well, I remember having a special way with lines and shapes and colors. That special way only developed and grew because I looked at the world in a certain way. I saw the world how it was, not just how it seemed at first glance. I saw the world as beautiful. I saw the endless possibilities.
          I recall moments when I would be riding in the car on a rainy day and looking out the window. Most kids would be looking past the glass at the falling rain... but I was looking INTO the rain. I examined each new drop that would land on the window. I would take mental notes about them, like how round they were and how they looked like beads of glass. I studied how far apart they were and how many more drops could be added to each one before they became too heavy and began running down the window, leaving slug-like trails of moisture behind. I noticed that each tiny bead had a rainbow in it and I counted how many colors I saw. I noticed how when I focused on the water droplets on the window that the passing scenery outside of the car was still visible but blurry, and when I changed my focus to what was passing, the water on the window seemed to disappear from view. Immediately my mind would wonder how my eyes worked and I would compare them to a camera lens, and then in that moment I would wish I had a camera to capture the affect that occurred due to the sun filtering through the clouds, hitting the rain drops on my window just right, causing them to each light up like teenie tiny light bulbs and cast a faint prism of warm color across my lap and the seat. I took note of how my eyes naturally responded with a peaceful squinting, causing that unique vision of what I now know to be called a lens flare, and making me feel such a feeling that my vocabulary at the time was not great enough to be able to find a word suitable for it.
           After my parents tucked me in each night, I would lay in the darkness of my bedroom staring out into space. Not at the ceiling or wall, mind you, but out "there" ...wherever "there" is. I defocused my eyes and saw the colors that made up the darkness. I watched the fragments of color travel like a school of fish from one side to the other, then quickly shift direction. Sometimes the colored fragments would separate by color and go their own way, creating spirals and other groovy shapes before colliding with each other again. I thought the darkness had a mind of its own and I made friends with it. I would reach out my hand and gently brush my fingertips through the darkness as if I was testing the temperature of still bath water, and invite the live particles to interact with me. Somehow I just knew they would. And they did. As I moved my hand one way in a wavy pattern, the fragments responded and followed my lead, creating a wavy pattern in the space above my head. It kept me entertained for awhile until my mind started racing, then I closed my eyes and visualized my world in my head the way I wanted it; the way I knew it would be one day, and I eventually drifted off to sleep to that.
          Fast forward 18+ years... I AM the full blown artist I always knew I would be. The artist I always felt was a part of me. And I think a lot about what that means.
          What IS an artist? What characteristics or skills must one have to qualify as an artist? Well, I could just tell you the dictionary definition of artist... Art-ist, noun- a person who practices any of the various creative arts, such as a sculptor, novelist, poet, or filmmaker. That is one view, but I believe I have found a definition that I like better, that goes a step further... Art-ist, noun- one who is able by virtue of imagination and talent or skill to create works of aesthetic value.
          I believe we all have an artist within us, but some of us are more aware of it. Some of us, for whatever reason, have such a passion for expression that the skills it takes to be a creator come naturally; the creative thought process just flows. Others have to work harder at it. But we ALL have it.
          Don't you realize when you wake up in the morning, get yourself dressed and style your hair, YOU are the canvas that you are painting for all the world to see? The way you present yourself to your peers and the public is a physical representation of your personality. Your style and look makes a statement about who you are.
          Some aren't fully aware of this. They don't look deeper. They don't pay much attention to what they put on and don't really care how they look when they go out. I'm sure those people would say that they aren't expressing anything because they aren't trying, and I would disagree and say that they ARE expressing themselves very plainly. The message they are sharing is that they don't care about themselves. They don't view themselves as worth the time. And typically people who don't tend to their physical appearance generally don't tend to their inner well being either. How they look on the outer part of them is generally a good reflection of whats on the inner part of them, whether it be health or mental and emotional stability.
          Presently, when I go into my closet, I see lots of different items. I see variety in style and color. I see choices and tons of possibilities. And that's exactly how I look at my life nowadays. But I haven't always has a wardrobe like that. Once upon a time I was a Southern Baptist Christian that had a closet full of mostly black and grey and brown. Those colors were safe to me. I was comfortable with those colors (or lack thereof) because I didn't have to spend time thinking about what to wear because everything matched with everything else. I thought, "Everyone looks good in black. You can't go wrong with black." Not to mention the fact that I was less than satisfied with the shape of my body and thought black would hide it well. I limited myself because I had convinced myself that there weren't many options for a person that looked like me. I didn't wear what I really wanted to wear, nor did I buy the clothes that really stood out to me in the stores. I stuck with what I was doing because it was the easiest choice... and interestingly enough that was a pretty accurate portrayal of my thoughts about life at the time.
          I am the first one to point out that in high school my appearance was very "plain jane" and yet that isn't at all how people remember me. My personality was every shade of the rainbow and all I was doing was contradicting myself with my appearance because it was the simplest solution to my fear.
          I was afraid to be noticed. I was afraid to diverge from what was familiar. I thought I was a nobody and so I dressed like a nobody for awhile. It wasn't until my senior year of high school that I got a sudden boost of confidence in myself after a very popular star football player, who I happened to like, stopped me in the hallway one day to ask me on a date. After that, I realized that who I was (and who I wanted to BE) deep down needed to be reflected on the outside. I started taking more time to be creative with my hairstyles and my choice of clothes. By the time Sean and I got married in 2005, I had thrown out most of my blacks and greys and started buying colors that represented my personality better. Now, I don't buy clothes, shoes, purses, jewelry unless they look like me and what I'm striving to be. When I hold up an item and ask my husband, "Does this look like me?" and he says "Definitely!" I snatch it up. He knows me better than anyone and loves that my style perfectly reflects my heart.
          Bold. Interesting. Thought provoking. Conversation starter. To the point. Fun. Happy. Hip. Artistic. Confident. Out of the box. Unique... these are all used to describe the contents of my closet, and by no coincidence they also are words that others have used to describe me.
          Choice of clothing style is only a small example, of course. Currently we are in the process of designing our loft that we will be building in the next couple of years, and I can see so much of our personalities in the design. We feel our home also is a reflection of our family and our individual personalities, therefore we strive to make our future home a place that encourages us to each be true to our inner strengths. We want it to be organized, fun, interesting, comfortable, peaceful, and thought provoking because shouldn't life be all those things?
          The greatest realization that I feel any person can come to is understanding that their life is their masterpiece. Life as a whole is YOUR canvas to paint on. It is YOUR clay to mold. It is YOUR poem to write. And it is YOUR song to sing. YOU are an artist, creating yourself and your life as you go along.
          Passion in creativity comes natural to some of us, but SKILL in creativity and artistry is learned. I always had the passion, but I didn't always have the skills when it came to drawing and painting. I was above average in art only because I had a passion for it, thus making me more receptive to my teachers and open to learning the skills necessary to make me great at what I love.
          Such is life as well. To create a truly awesome life the way you want it to look, you have to have skills which is wisdom, but you will not learn those skills necessary for making a quality work of art without the passion for it. When you have a passion for something, you are determined to make it great. You are excited about it and can't wait to get right to it. You have to have a passion for life to develop the wisdom needed to turn it into a masterpiece. You may not have the passion for actual painting and art, but you can choose to have passion for your life and whatever it is you are interested in. You can be determined to learn. You can be determined to create something great. You can stop letting other people create it for you because more often than not, they don't create it the way you really want it.
          Start by expressing the you you want to be in the appearance aspects of your life. Dress and carry yourself like you care. Be well kept. Be bold. Be confident. Wash and wax your car. Buy a new outfit that makes a statement about who you want to be. Try a new unique hairstyle. De-clutter your house. Get organized, then rearrange your furniture. Start eating healthier. These are small, but they are steps in the right direction. When you try all these suggestions you will be surprised at how much better you will feel about yourself and life. 
          With each new day, be aware that you are working on your masterpiece, and make sure that whatever you create for that day is something you can stand back, look at, and be satisfied with. If you mess up, no worries, you can always paint over it. Mistakes cause us to learn what not to do so that we paint it better the next day.
         So, yes, I am an artist, but you see, by very definition, so are you. We all are. Art-ist, noun- one who is able by virtue of imagination and talent or skill to create works of aesthetic value.

Make your life something captivating.