Regrets

Now that we are out here, it's time to start assembling a daily routine and figuring out what we are doing with ourselves. So far, it has mostly consisted of puttering around the house and spending hours and hours on eBay drooling over things that we could, but probably won't, ever buy. That's not much of a way to spend a lifetime...

After our big shopping trip last week, I acquired a few little things at the Goodwill. Just a wooden spice rack and some other grubby goodies. I thought about how I used to paint little things on every thing I owned before I used it; just a way of personalizing or adding a little extra color and originality to every thing you look at.

Sitting down with the spice rack and my paints, I started daubing at the colors, mixing up the shades I like, a bright orange and a soft blue. Looking at this palette knife I'm using. I have had this for almost 20 years. The stained and bent brushes I've had since high school, and the unused ones that I've bought in the years since then, hoping to open up my creativity, hoping to allow myself the time to do this.

I started to realize just how long it had been since I'd felt free to do this with my time. I'm not sure I can remember the last time I sat down with a couple of things and just felt free, just smacked some colorful paint all over them, just because I wanted to. I can't remember the last time that I created something artistic without second-guessing myself. Without thinking of someone else and whether or not they will like it. Whether it's a friend or a professor or an unknown potential customer, I have always had someone else in mind. Now that I am sitting here and I am determined to make something for myself, I don't think I even know what I want. I'm not sure that I even know what I like anymore. The last time I asked myself what I wanted in a design must have been a very long time ago. I am pretty sure that I was 17 years old and had not yet gone off to college.

With the brush in my hand, I start feeling doubtful, even panicked. Was my own sense of design and my own artistic vision stopped cold by the confines of academia, or did I just grow out of being artistic? That freedom of vision, was this just part of being a teenager, or is this something that I can regain? And if so, how? What does it take to rescusitate a creative urge that has been ignored for 15 years? When it comes back, is it still relevant?

Right now I am just feeling a lot of bitter regrets, which bring fear and self-doubt over me in waves. I fear that I set aside this part of myself for so long that I won't be able to regain any creativity. I wonder what the hell I have done with the last 15 years of my life. I mean, all I want to do right now is be 17 again and start over. What if I could have gotten here, then? How much better of an artist would I be? Could I have found a niche and matured in it? Can I get there from here, now? What if I can't??? Was I even an artist to begin with? Who am I kidding? How can a 'real' artist survive for 15 years without creating anything? Is "too busy" a legitimate excuse for anything in life?

We have been talking about opening a coffee shop. It seems like every time we talk about it, I have an ambitious new idea for something to incorporate into it. Something challenging and crafty that's not entirely creative. Something... practical. Like baking artisan bread. Or growing organic vegetables and making soups. Canning fruit and making jams. Whatever. All of these things have their appeal. We could make any of these pursuits generate enough income to get by.

All of this business (busy-ness) could take up all of my time and leave me with little time or energy to daub paints, mix colors, think up new themes and images. I could forever avoid taking the ultimate risk and really seeing if I can do it. I don't know how I'm going to clear away the distractions and spend the time with the brushes and paints, getting reacquainted, trying to open up my vision. I just know that it's the most important thing to do.