Art For Dummies :-)

Writers. We always have to have the last word. As if our words carry more weight than anyone else’s… though we know they don’t. We 'paint' vividly with our words, giving us a sense of artistic license.  Since we are artists but can’t brush onto canvas, mold a hunk of clay, put notes on a score, or create a tangible work in a three-dimensional form -- our art is constantly running through our minds and out into the open air.

Perhaps that’s why we tend to run at the mouth – and these days, at the keyboard.

Frequently, I speak out of turn, but mostly I just speak of the present or past as I see it applied to the current situation. That’s what writer/reporters do --  make mental notes of moments in life and share them, in written form. It’s nearly medically necessary,  as if keeping them all inside might cause some sort of verbiage hernia. 

Reporters are usually in the crosshairs of the general public, anticipating one of three basic reactions to our phrases and perspective. 1) Anger, 2) appreciation, or 3) apathy. Sometimes we win the showcase, and sometimes Door # 1 hits us in the hind end on the way out.  

My verbiage began much earlier than most folks’. My mother still tells the story of our new neighbor greeting me, after we moved, in 1967. Perhaps I sat in the yard next to my mom, at eighteen months old, while she tended the flowerbed, when Mr. Finley stopped to chat. I don’t know why we were outside in December, or what he said to me in the front yard of the house in the shadow of Pachappa Hill, but apparently I answered him in a full sentence -- and the nice man who would be our neighbor for the next 30 years never forgot it.

Often labeled a tattletale, often lauded for my dearth of information and insight, and, once upon a time -- nominated Biggest Gossip of my Senior Class in 1983 -- I have yet to stop yammering on. (At  Senior Awards Night, I didn’t even mind. At least I knew people were listening to me and paying attention. HA)

I am a reporter by nature. Teacher, tattletale, empathizer, gossip, observer, critic, recorder, archivist, preacher, hot seat debate participant, comforter – I always want to put my two cents in. 

Frequently, I speak out of turn, but mostly I just speak of the present or past as I see it applied to the current situation. 

I have taken to heart the ancient adage, “ the tongue speaks of life and death”, and am making the change from the “painting style” of artists who throw paint onto a canvas in front of a jet engine and see how it turns out -- to one more like the masters of old. Sketch first, create layers, subtle hues mixed for depth and composition – with careful brushstrokes. As opposed to fostering brash ideas which become bold words which become chaotic canvases that make no sense yet still create interest of intellectual puzzlement ( or broad distinterest ) which had been my modus operandi.

This past winter and spring,  I have attempted to use the brushstrokes of my words to ‘paint’ better relationships.  In baseball lingo, I went one for ten. In Real Life lingo, I got verbally scourged by a few folks who would rather not establish improved interactions with others. (It’s partly fair. I’ve done my share of slapping, too, and it may be too late to recreate myself in the eyes of others even though I know I have changed.  Scourging remains unwarranted, as throughout history -- always used to silence opposition. )

Renovation of personality is a slow process.

Two and half years ago, on being diagnosed with cancer, I set about to apologize to nearly everyone from my past that I had wounded or betrayed, and also to reconnect with those I had maintained healthy relationships --- just in case the cancer overtook me and I exited this earth without making amends.( One guy that I dumped back in high school accepted my apology and told me he had used me as an example in ministry as what NOT to do in a dating situation. Talk about making a silk purse. HA! At least my insensitivity got some good use.) 

In the post-cancer aftermath, I still manage to put both feet in my mouth – but have also learned to whom NOT to share my insights and observations, nor get offended by them when they adopt a passive-aggressive defense when I strike a nerve. 

These folks include those who cannot see beyond the end of their nose, those who choose to stay ‘inside’ at all times, and those who have a vampire tendency. ( Can’t see themselves in a two-way situation, yet drain you of all your emotion.) I now carry garlic with me at all times. It’s also good for my heart. HA!

Color your world vividly, in your own style, with kind words, loving thoughts, generous deeds, and colors from your very own palette – but don’t be afraid to defend yourself or your beliefs against those who choose to be less than kind, simply because you don't fit in the lines of their coloring book. 

Just keep painting and doodling and crayoning right around them, and they pale in comparison to true beauty. They might just pick up a brush, as well, and create a work that complements your own.