My revelation. Like my handwriting, which doesn't conform to the strict rules of what is good and strong, my paintings have their "own" look and will be mine. What ever it is, good or bad, it is mine. I've been waiting to hit my 500th painting so I can start painting "good". I'm afraid that it is what it is. That is how each artist develops their own "look". If you are able to paint, say, the stems of a plant with precision, that will be your look. If you paint the same stems with broad loose strokes, that will be your look.
My hand writing gets the job done, I can write enough to get the job done and hopefully be able to read it at a later date. I had hoped my painting would develop into "fine art". But now I don't think my stems will ever be confused with any precision, darn it!
Of course, it is possible there is a place for my art. Just where is that place? My friends and family seem to like what they have taken. Oh well, I once realized you don't need a beautiful voice to sing. Now I know I don't need beautiful paintings to paint. Just paint, Beckie, paint, paint, paint.
Everyone is given their gifts and should be grateful. I wanted most to sing. Then I wanted to paint. Later, I thought how wonderful it would be to be really smart. I just wanted to be "really really good" at something. A gift. A talent. A star. An Angel. I, my friends, am a middle-of-the-road-er. That should be worth something. OK, that is my talent.
"What is she good at" one would ask. The answer came back "Oh, my dear, didn't you know? She is a middle-of-the-road-er and she is REALLY good at that"! They all smiled and were proud of her.
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