THE ARTIST IN ME

I am an artist and I always have been. When I was young a new coloring book and crayons could keep me busy for hours. I remember taking my time and trying to make each page a piece of art.

 

After grade school I graduated from coloring books to drawing, with scads of paper everywhere. Each drawing came with a story.  There was a point during my adolescent years that I papered my bedroom wall with characters and made up intensely fulfilling lives for each one of them.  Thinking back on it now, they were couples, maybe ten or fifteen of them. Even then I must have known I had a passion for writing romance and women’s fiction.

I’ve dabbled in oils and acrylics paints.  At one time, I fashioned myself a painter.  I had the easel and the coffee can full of paint brushes. But now my canvases are stored in the basement collecting dust. I had a stint with ceramics and or course my first love, writing.

There are probably hundreds of ways to demonstrate artistic expression. These were just a few of mine.  Like writing they brought me a sense of calm and joy. My artistic work provides an outlet for the stuff cramming for attention in my brain.   It allows me to produce something that only I can, my signature in a way.

I venture that everyone has a way of expressing themselves in some unique method. Whether it’s writing something, building something, baking something or playing something, there’s an artist in you, too.

Comments

  1. I have known you for over 30 years and you have made me speechless. We have shared a many things through the years but this is something you kept from me. I see a new Jacki Kelly. I’m happy to know have two BFF’s.

    • jackikelly says:

      I’m sure there are lots of things I don’t know about you either. We’ll have to share one day.

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