I didn't say for sure I would. It makes me feel both nervous AND tired. But I'm thinking about it. . . so more on that later. First, I suppose I owe an apology to a certain college student who was a little bit -- shall we say -- miffed about my last post. In my defense, I said that most bloggers would have taken a picture of the offending room/hallway/piles and posted THAT, but instead I had chosen to include a charming illustration and only a partial list. But I guess already this isn't much of an apology, so . . . sorry, Hannah. I love you so so so!
Today I will sing your praises. Because after hours of intense labor at the computer, Hannah's etsy shop is up and running and today I had to ship a pair of earrings to the Isle of Man! She was open literally 3 minutes and she had already gone global. I bow down. If you haven't checked it out, you simply must! (vintagescrewball.etsy.com) Hannah, you're my hero.
And now, back to the beginning where I said I said maybe. As any 3rd grader can tell you, when your mom says maybe it is actually just a little softer way of saying no. Because if the answer was yes, she would have just said yes, right? But maybe gives you just a little hope in the back of your mind, even though the front of your mind weighs all existing evidence and realizes that maybe is actually a one-letter-longer version of nope. What I'm thinking about (maybe) is committing to doing a sketch every day for a year. Who cares? Why is this meaningful? Why would I even have to pause and think about this? Why should you have to read about it? Because if you know me at all, you know that I am a raging draw-o-phobic. This is problematic for someone pursuing a career in visual art. I realize that. I know I must overcome it. I think it goes back to sitting next to Cass Linebaugh in the 4th grade. Cass already seemed to have won all of life's prizes. First of all, her name was infinitely cooler than mine. Cass. It just oozes cool. Then she had these long braids that were bound up in these extremely cool and cass-like leather braid thingys. The boys went wild. But the real kicker, the thing that haunts me to this day, is that Cass could draw horses. I mean real, actual horses. With shading. Horses that looked much more like a SIXTH grader drew them than a lousy 4th grader. And she drew them all day and everywhere. The teachers oohed and aahed. The boys went wild. My pictures of sunsets consisting of two giant "M" shaped mountains with a setting semi-circle between them (occasionally punctuated with rounded "M" shaped birds flying off over the hills) just couldn't compare. While I couldn't actually lay my hands on one of those pictures, I offer as exhibit A the following poem from the same time period -- I'm CERTAIN you can imagine the illustration I'm talking about. . . .
Scarred for life. So anyway, in the interest of growing, in the interest of revitalizing my art, in the interest of all that is true and brave and worthwhile (and perhaps even in the interest of prizes), I have put this challenge out there for myself. Let me get the last little chick out of the nest next week and we'll see what bravery springs from the existential dilemma that will undoubtedly ensue. Hannah suggested I could POST the drawings every day. EEEEKKK!
I only said maybe. Besides, I happen to know that Hannah can draw horses, too.