Having been an amateur artist for many years, it never occurred to me to call myself an artist. And I don't know why. I've been a life-long runner and have always identified as one. But I'm not good. I guess I was in my youth but I quickly and voluntarily became slow and steady, and loved it. I fully own the label "runner", despite my 5-hour marathon times. But an artist is a new title for me.
I spent years wanting to paint more, but simply didn't have the space. Taking supplies out of the way back cabinets, and putting everything away after each use proved cumbersome. And I never knew what to paint. I'd paint things I saw....rarely something from my imagination and never something I'd want hung in my home.
A dedicated workspace has proven to be life-changing. Who knew what a difference it would make. As a result, I’ve begun exploring new-to-me styles I never thought I could do, and I actually like them! It’s part new-house-no-money-left-to-buy-art and part child-like excitement at having an art room to play in. The fact that my daughter enjoys working in that room with me is just the cherry on this art-loving sundae.
Not always organized and certainly small, this new space has allowed my inner artist to come out of her shell. It’s never too late, I guess. Cheers to new art experiences!