Art: Love It and Hate It.

My predicament began when I was about 10 years old-over 50 years ago.

While in grade school I had a good friend who was a very talented artist.

One day, while in class, I noticed some illustrations he had done for a report he wrote on the Civil War.

I decided that I ‘could do that’ and attempted to draw.  To my surprise I was good at it.  In fact, better than my friend.

I’d always loved comic books and then and there decided I wanted to draw them as a career.

I practiced and practiced and slowly, painfully, began to hone my skills.

I was no Leonardo Da Vinci by any stretch of the imagination, but I was improving.

Many of my classmates liked my art.  My art teachers did not.

They went so far as to discourage my efforts and made no bones about it that they despised ‘cartoons.’

Still, I persevered and kept drawing cartoons and traditional art throughout school. 

Things were not much better at home.  All of my family worked in the auto industry or manufacturing.

None possessed the talent for or understood the arts--especially drawing.

My mom was more concerned about her next BINGO game or knick-knack procurement and my brothers were too busy raising their families.

I don’t fault them-that was their choice.

I kept drawing.  Even then the seeds of futility were being planted.
I moved away form home and after two years wound up at college with a degree in graphic design-which also required drawing.

While there I was exposed to other students with similar talents; some better, some not as good as my own.

I graduated and got my first job at a publishing house as an illustrator.

My downfall started there.  I did not like the job or the people in charge.

Any work I created outside of my job they considered ‘taboo’ and ‘inappropriate.’

I left after one year, moved back to Florida with my wife soon got a job at an advertising agency.

To my surprise I discovered I had a knack for design, especially for logos.  My writing skills began to surface.

After about nine years I moved on to a series of jobs in the Marketing Departments at several financial institutions.

It was there in encountered the corporate world and its disdain for art.

Yet another blow.

I was now at the point where my art was nothing more than a way to pay the bills.  I felt no joy in doing it.  I simply wanted to finish it.  The process meant nothing to me.

At one point I was on the cusp of knowing what it meant to be passionate about my art.  My passion made way for complacency and boredom.

I felt, and still do, that ‘what’s the point?’

After leaving the corporate world I started teaching art at a local high school.  I did enjoy seeing students discover their art skills.

I instructed, but did not create.

My disdain for drawing soon led me to the point that I couldn’t even draw anything for my own family.  I still can’t.

I look at the art of others and appreciate the skill and passion behind it.  I even enjoy looking at it.  But I can’t participate.

Ironically, I can emulate and master any form of art.  I’m a quick study, catch on almost instantly and am proficient in a variety of art styles.

But, there’s no passion, no drive, and no unquenchable thirst to complete a project.

My boredom level has elevated my patience practically nil and my frustration level so high that it almost makes me physically ill.

I see others art and know that I could be where they are on their skill level if I had applied myself.  I didn’t, I couldn’t.  It’s too painful, too daunting and too late.

I find myself hiding behind the false curtain of not caring, of sluffing it off as a phase or downplaying the entire affair.

It still haunts me.  I suppose it always will.

I envy those that possess the passion to create art and I wish them well. 

I’ll try to satiate my need for creativity with my writing.

It’s a shame and almost a travesty.  I have so many good ideas, so much I could have give but life has nasty habit of playing tricks on you.

It’s not always fair and dreams don’t always come true.

Still, I’ve had a good life.   I married a wonderful woman.  I have two great kids, a grandson and what’s left of my family in Michigan.

I have my health, my wits and most of all my salvation. 

I may not have seen my dreams fulfilled in this life.  But, who knows what’s in store in the next?