But ... my head is already creating "yes, buts." Yes, I've been accepted into a gallery ... but, it's just a small, local gallery. Yes, they agreed to let me in ... but, when nothing of mine sells, they'll ask me to leave. Yes, some of my work to date has been interesting ... but, what if I never make anything else. On and on. What is this thing inside us that looks at something outside as big and perfect and beautiful but when it moves inside us, it's small and unimportant? It reminds me of the Groucho Marx line: I wouldn't want to belong to any club that would have me as a member. That used to sound funny, now it just seems pathetically insecure.
There are beautiful artists in Timberline and I am honored that they chose me. That doesn't mean I'm ready for MOMA; it actually doesn't mean anything other than right now, in this moment, I have been invited to be part of a community of artists. It's a chance to learn and grow as an artist.
So, I just want to shout: Stop it!! to all the Yes, buts.
Congratulations! I'd love to see a show of your and Diane's work together.ReplyDelete
And no more "buts". It's "Yes" all the way.
AH, those yes-buts are killer, aren't they!keeping us firmly in our place, denying us pride...ReplyDelete
Yes, BUT: you're going to be showing your work in a gallery you love, full of other artists whose taste echoes your own. It's all good -- even if it doesn't sell!