I would write journals every week — or more — even if I didn't think anyone would ever read them. I would paint flowers, draw birds, experiment with new mediums and subject matter, even if no one ever saw them. How do I know this? Because I did it for years.
Long before you knew my name or my story, I was a woman who secretly wrote short stories and painted strictly for personal pleasure. Some stories had a philosophical edge; others were more adult in nature. My art was purely what I wanted to paint, with many pieces taking months and hundreds of hours. I did it just for me and it was amazing.
One of my favourites, Polaris Dance, was just this: a piece that I birthed with such time and attention that, despite having looked at it every day for months during its creation, I would still have a sense of awe that I had painted it, even when it was done. I didn't paint it thinking I would sell it one day or that anyone would even see it. And that was okay with me. I enjoyed it and it brought me joy.
Many of my short stories live on my old circa-2008 MacBook Pro. I think I remember the password, and I think the charger and battery still work. I don't really know. I'm not sure what mindset I was in back when I wrote them. They could have been composed between relationships, when I was wondering if my prince was out there — or maybe they were written while I was in a less-than-satisfying relationship and this was my way of imagining a more ideal situation. Perhaps it was a mix of both.
In the six years since I've shared — and sold — many of my pieces of art, and now with sharing my weekly journals with all of you, it's amazing how much better sharing my creations, a piece of my soul, with you feels. Something I didn't expect to happen whatsoever.
I love that collectors tell me how much joy my art brings them. I love that I can take that art and put it on a mug or a T-shirt — or a pint glass — and people all over the world can enjoy a piece of my essence that I created simply for the act of creation.
While, like my journals, many of my pieces of art have a deep meaning, there are those which I did just for the simple act of bringing them into existence. Knowing that these pieces will live on long after I am gone makes me feel an incredible sense of immortality.
As a creative, I often wonder if others feel the same way as I do; if the non-artsy people in society yearn to share their gifts and interests with the world. Perhaps you make the world's most amazing banana bread and have the pleasure of enjoying it warm out of the oven. But do you ever think that other people would like to experience this banana-y goodness?
If not, I encourage you to ask yourself why. Why do you feel that what interests you would not interest others? Why do you silently enjoy things in your life that others could also find joy from? Surely there are others in the world who would find it fascinating as well.
If the answer is because you are shy, don't have the time, or find websites and social media confusing, I get it. I am still learning too after being online for nearly a year and a half. Fortunately, being Gen X, I give no guffs, so I don't fuss with my hair, makeup and outfits — I'm in the "what you see is what you get" mindset, or as my mother likes to say, "like it or lump it." I still don't know what "lumping" something means.
Bottom line, this fifty-something Canadian woman raising her boy on her own, never imagined she would be living in paradise, sharing her life and her art with anyone — let alone a sizable online community.
I appreciate each and every one of you who collect my art and creations and/or read my journal every week. Because as a pre-internet human, it's so important now more than ever to share not only who we are, but also what we love.
I encourage you to do the same.
-Julie
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