The Burden Gift

Sheesh, I'm such a whiner. What kind of a post title is that? A true one, I guess. But silly.

We all have gifts, and I suppose all of them can feel like burdens sometimes. Sometimes I wish my gift was something more along the lines of compassion, or the ability to make people laugh, or the gift of knowing how to comfort someone who is grieving. These are gifts that I hope to earn someday, but haven't received yet. Seriously, if you're having a rough day, find someone who will hug you because I'd probably say something dumb like "So fix it." or "Well, at least you have your health!" and you might want to smack me. Meanwhile, I'll be in the basement painting:)

So, we all have gifts, and this one is mine. I'm going to stop denying it and face the fact - I'm an artist. I am. I can do it. I love to create, and I'm good at it. I'm not better at my gift than you are at yours, you are absolutely just as, or more so, amazing at your gift. Art might be your gift as well, but it is also mine. The burden part comes from how MOODY I get when I'm in the middle of a painting. I can't focus on anything else. Hence why I never finish large scale pieces, because my life falls apart while I'm working on it and I have to abandon ship! One week, that's about my max time frame. My heart and soul goes into each piece, no matter the size or medium. It's like I'm putting my soul out there for the world to love, criticize, adore, or mock and there's nothing I can do to stop them! 

You don't have to read any more if I'm driving you crazy. 

That being said, you know what gift I'm so fascinated by? The gift of words. Now that is a gift I'd like. Written and spoken. I'm not so good at either one. The art of conversation is one that eludes me, but I love listening to good conversationalists. The kind that can steer a discussion just the way they want to, and get their point across in a confrontational yet classy way. I fear the art is leaving us, in our world of email texting messaging communication. Take me for example; I'd much rather punch away at these keys than call you on the phone and tell you about all this! I have a fear that no one wants to listen to me, so I type it all out and no one has to! It's your choice, no one's forcing you. Silliness, all of it.  

What was I saying?

Oh yes. Art. Oh no, wait! Words! Glorious words. I just finished Leo Tolstoy's Anna Karenina and I'm in a state of bliss. I read the last words, set the book down, and because the kids were asleep and no one needed anything, I stared blankly at the ceiling for a few glorious moments and just let the words swirl around in my brain-void. His ability to take words - the same words that I use on a daily basis - and organize them the way he does, is amazing. How could I even sit here and hope to use words to describe his? Some authors do this to me. They make me feel like I've been somewhere else, not of this world. The same way I could look at Michelangelo's Pieta for 24 hours straight. 

And now that we've discussed masterpieces of the world, here we have my cartoon. Tee hee hee, hoo hoo! 

I love art. That must be clear by now. I love most kinds, in fact. Even cartoons! 

I didn't mean to get into that lengthly rant up there, so please forgive and let us wipe that from our brains and get back to Christmas!

A few weeks before Christmas Katie had this great idea, so she texted me something along the lines of "Could you draw something that looked like Calvin and Hobbes, but of ZandA's boys?"

Immediately visions started exploding in my head. I couldn't think about anything else until it was finished, which happened to be on Christmas eve, because I work best under pressure. Which also means I was moody right before Christmas, so here is my blanket apology to all who associated with me. Sorry.

I love their little boys, and depicting them this way was delightful. The Kepsel family has a long standing love for the genius work of Bill Patterson, so no matter how good the painting was, they were going to like it by default. It was a no lose commission!

So Katie thought of it, I painted it, Katie framed it, I wrapped it, and we gave it.

And there were tears! Katie and I high fived each other for that one. Tears are the goal, right?

Like I said, we all have our unique gifts. And when we use them to create happiness for others, we're doing a good thing. This little painting was obviously not a masterpiece or anything close to a shadow of one, but it didn't need to be.
Some people use their gifts on a daily basis, I use mine once a year. No, that's not good. But once a year it sure is fun.