I am not an artist

(aka: Jane of all Trades speaks out)

I am not an artist. However, I have a number of friends who are and let me tell you, nothing will make you feel less of an artist than going to see their new installation at a gallery, or even perusing their portfolio. I've spent a great deal of time and energy trying to find some spark of Talent-with-a-capital-T in an artistic endeavor.

When it came to school projects, I did just fine. My mother even tapped me to make my sister's Mythology final project (i did a mosaic of one of the tortures of Hades and got a better grade on it then when i had done my own project for the class two years prior - grrrrrr)

For a while, I followed my college friends (who were almost all artists or musicians) as they worked on their various projects. In an effort to keep them company (and, inadvertently, give them something at which to laugh), I would attempt whatever craft they were currently doing. There were the clay candlesticks that shattered in the kiln (that was fine - they kind of looked like dildos made by someone who was both blind and missing opposable thumbs). My plaster sculpture (first attempt at 3-D sculpture carving) was supposed to be a Goddess figure. She ended up being more of a tribute to the Lady as She might look if she were a kind of fluid stone (i'm obsessed with "The Third Eye" from the early 80's on Nickelodeon). The painting... well, let's not even discuss it beyond: there are 5th graders who paint better than i do. Drawing wasn't much better. Metal-work, oddly, went the best. I made a teeny-tiny little copper bowl with what turned out to be a really nifty burgundy effect on the outside (a serendipitous mistake, to be sure). Too bad it had a tiny hole in the very middle - guess i hit that nail too hard.

After that, I pretty much stuck to my violin and writing for indie magazines.

Over the years, I've tried oils, acrylics, wood carving, furniture making, calligraphy, pastels, charcoal, ribbon work, quilting, clay, doll making, glass etching, tile work, jewelry making, cooking, baking, and the list goes on and on. The upshot of them all?

Eh.

That's it, just "eh." Perhaps better than what my mother can do (she maintains she hasn't an artistic bone in her body), but not great. Just good enough to realize how much better it could be.

So, here I am, just shy of 35, still looking for that Talent when it suddenly occurs to me.

Who gives a shit?

Seriously... what does it matter? A month and more ago, I spent a few hours with my niece and nephew, making play dough birds and snowmen and so on. At Katie's request, I make a daddy bird and a mommy bird and 8 (yes, 8) baby birds, all complete with wings, tiny beaks and eyes that, when finished, fit on my little fingernail with room left over. After the family was complete, I showed her how to make snowmen and how to make an itty bitty striped scarf for them out of the dough. I made a comment to my sister that the kids think I can make ANYTHING out of anything! If it's a craft of some sort, it ends up in my lap. A few weeks later, I visited again and found that Katie had made craft paper backgrounds for the birds and snowmen and wouldn't hear of them being thrown out.

Touched, it finally hit me. Who cares that I'll never paint a masterpiece? So what if I never have a bestselling novel? As far as Katie and Ethan are concerned, I am an artist. In their eyes, I can make clay into something magical and tell stories with voices to make them giggle and beg for more. They have total faith in my ability to, well, make anything out of anything. You know what? Every time I manage to pull it off, every time Ethan looks out from those long lashes and Katie's eyes begin to sparkle, every time I hear them laugh that wonderful, uncontained belly laugh, that's the only Talent I need - the Talent to bring a bit of magic to the people I care for the most.