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May 2, 2008

I really love art supply stores.  In fact, I really love art supplies.  Now, lets not confuse this with an actual love of art.  Paintings, sculptures, pottery, I respect the skill involved in them.  But they do not have the same gravitational pull as the supplies used to make them.

This is why on a given day I should not actually be allowed to step into an art store.  Today, I managed to escape with no damage.  But if I were feeling particularly down it would be typical for me to arrive home with an armload of supplies that would remain completely unused.  For while I love art supplies, I am not very artistic.  I have oil paints and acrylics, but I never know what to paint, and I had pastels for a while, but I threw them out because i can’t draw.  Today it was all I could do to keep myself from buying a host of colored markers. What for?  uhh… the pretty colors?

It could be that I am drawn inexorably to the pure colors on the packaging.  Without shadow or light, or mixture, they are bright and brilliant.  It is like being in a store full of rainbows!  Inevitably when I bring home some of the colors they seem lonely and dim without the rest of their fellows.

There is also potential there as well.  I think I could take these supplies, mosaic tiles, ceramic paint, watercolors, glitter, and turn them into amazing things.

But I never do.  I bring home blank canvasess, and colors of paint I think I might need.  And they sit in my office, propped up next to my shelf of blank notebooks.  Pristine and beautiful.

Nothing I could ever write, or draw, or paint will have the same potential.  More likely than not it will be half finished, uninspired and poorly executed.

It could be that fear of failure is limiting my creativity.  Perhaps I’m so afraid that what I do wont be good enough that I’m afraid to try.  That’s probably very likely.  I’ve always felt that I was a better at appreciating other people’s creativity than creating myself.  I can read other people’s books with both greed and speed, (though please not their poems), I can sing other people’s songs with minimal artistry  and I can admire other people’s art.

I am ultimately, a consumer.


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  1. I wanted to thank you for reading and reading to my blog. My Name is Mark and I’m the guy who writes One Mans journey or as it’s better known ( yes it really links there) anyway I had always felt left out of the people of size community because most of them regarded me as a traitor. It was good to see someone who I read, well reading my stuff. I was glad to see you visit even if for a glance.

    By the way like you I have been fucking off on making a podcast for the longest time. I’m relatively sure I could make a totally badass know if I could ever get off my ass and do the thing.

    Thanks for reading and I enjoy reading your stuff.


  2. Piffle permalink

    Try an art class, what could it hurt? Even if you are only mediocre, you might have fun.

    I think one reason I enjoy gardening is the frustrated artist side of me. I may not be able to paint or draw a rose, but I can grow one with pretty colors. I can grow other plants too, and if I pay even a little attention to their wants they’ll put on a show–they have the same goals I do after all (health and reproduction), so it’s a team effort and they can make up for my flaws.

  3. I actually did take a painting class a few years ago that I really enjoyed. And I keep wanting to apply what I learned, but I never know what to paint. I don’t really have the money right now for anything additonal.

    I want to try gardening, I am waiting to see what happens to my new yard when it grows in this summer. But I definetly want to plant some veggies and my friend told me I have the perfect spot for some azaleas.

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