Sometimes, it dawns on you that a change has happened. This weekend has felt like that. It feels like a sudden change, but actually it has been gradual. Is there a more positive metaphor than “the straw that broke the camel’s back”? Today I am an artist. Last week I was calling myself an artist, but I could always hear someone giggling. A few months ago I felt happy calling myself an artist/teacher, and the giggling about that was fading. A year ago the artist/teacher tag was a struggle. Three years ago I’d have heard guffaws at the prospect of calling myself an artist/teacher. I didn’t know really what I was… No… I knew I was an artist. But when people asked me, I couldn’t say the word. I used to shuffle around it a bit.
This last week, I have been talking about my work, the ideas, the process and the product of my thoughts. People have listened, nodded, written down the pearls of wisdom that have fallen from my mouth (snigger snigger). Other people have started sentences with “What Elena has done here is…” and said all sorts of wonderful things.
It has been a weird week. I know it is unusual, and that this sort of concentrated me me me art activity will not happen often. I am absolutely drained, and as you can see from the previous post, at times struggling to string together a sentence.
So if you don’t mind, I’m going to selfishly revel in the feeling for a while.
Next week I’m back in school, shuffling paper and mixing paint and trying to explain why shoving clay up your nose is a bad idea. I love it. But this last 6 weeks have been the best summer holiday yet. I start the term at school, and at university, teaching and learning, with renewed vigour and a drive that I can’t explain very clearly. I’m a woman in a hurry, but I don’t know what towards.
