It interests me to recollect that while my identity today and for the last 17 years has been totally involved in my art, this was not so for a long time during my life. When I was growing up, I loved to draw. But somewhere along the line, I lost my identity as an artist. I took art classes here and there throughout my 20s, but life's responsibilities (particularly financial ones) pushed my creativity to the fringes of my existence, where it languished.
Things got particularly bleak by 1991, when I was 29. I was working full time as a secretary and hadn't done any drawing in years. I had totally lost myself and felt confused and depressed. Then one morning in 1993, the sun came up, the light shone on my path, and suddenly everything made sense. One step at a time, I strode toward my destiny as an artist. I earned a bachelor's degree, I earned a master's degree, I set up a studio and an art-making schedule, and I began to show and sell my work. It was like that gap between being a little girl and playing with my art supplies every day, and being a professional artist working in my studio, had never happened.
But it did happen, and in a way, I'm glad. It was painful to feel so lost for so long, but that fallow period made me more compassionate toward my students, especially my female students. I teach young women in high school or college who know deep down that they want to become artists, but they are afraid to commit to such an unstable career and are tempted to follow their families' urgings to major in something they don't care as much about but that promises a solid living. I teach busy mothers who are frustrated that their art-making has had to take a back seat to family commitments (and often, full-time jobs in addition). And I teach retired women who look back with pride on their lives devoted to their families, communities, and workplaces, but who wonder how to find their inner artist selves which have been denied over the decades of giving to others.
I understand the soul-searching that all of these age groups are going through. But I know that if I can figure it out, so can they.
I've come across a number of portraits that my husband has taken of me over the years, which reveal how literally wrapped up in painting my life has been since I found myself in 1993.
Me at age 5 (taken by my Grandpa, the other portrait photographer in my life):
Me at age 35, finally an artist again after 30 years:
Me at age 42, 7 years later:
Me at age 49, 7 years later (taken last week):
12 comments:
I like that you are smiling in your last picture :)
Congratulations Catherine. Your destiny was waiting for you all along.
A great post, Catherine! So true for so many women. For myself, I didn't go to art school until I was turning 40. I had a lot of catching up to to do, but what the hell, I'm there now.
insightful and beautiful - just like you. Thankyou Catherine.
Jenn, my husband kept making faces from behind the camera, so I couldn't keep a straight face if I tried!
Terry, I really believe that - that your creative self will wait patiently for you until you're ready, whenever that is, even if you're 100 years old. I always tell those folks who say they've lost touch - don't worry, it's just waiting for you.
Thank you, Nancy, then I know you can relate to my story. Plus we have the benefit of life experience to enrich our new technical skills.
What a sweet thing to say, Corinna, thank you!
A lovely post Catherine. What matters above all is that you found your way. And that you are happy where you are.
Catherine this is a terrific post. The photo is beautiful. Thanks for sharing your journey.
True, Tamar, absolutely true, thank you. BTW, loved reading about your experiences on Lynette's blog this morning!
My pleasure, Lynette, thank you for reading. We've all had those "lost and found" years, I expect, when you feel more or less in tune with your creative self.
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