One (of many) definitions of “Art” is the expression or application of human creative skill and imagination“.
I have always been in awe of people with exceptional skills or gifts: writers, painters, sculptors and sketchers; singers, dancers, musicians, comedians, actors; photographers and chefs… You get the idea. I am desperately jealous of people who get it perfectly right with seemingly no effort at all.
Inspired momentarily by a variety of artforms, I have tried most things. I have danced, sketched, written poetry, dabbled in photography and tried to play instruments with varying levels of success; but the only thing I consider genuine achievement is my writing. I wouldn’t necessarily term myself an artist though.
I would have to say that I am most inspired by art created by children. Having worked as an au pair for 6 years and briefly as a nursery school teacher to 3 year olds, I have quite an impressive collection of brightly coloured drawings made just for me by dozens of different children.
Without the limitations we as adults put on ourselves, their imaginations are completely free to conjure a world where green skies and purple grass are home to red lions and blue crocodiles, and the stick figures holding hands in the middle are always the two of you. Children see every possibility, every variation and they use endless colour because, well, just because. The people are always happy, seldom afraid of the variety of luminous monsters that populate their world; the sun is always shining, even if it is pink, and there are endless exciting adventures held in a simple pile of blank paper and a new box of wax crayons.
I can’t wait for Charly to draw the first mass of squiggles that she will declare are “mommy and daddy and Charly and our kitties and our house and granny and grampa and their kitties and Aunty Tammy and Uncle Rob and Chloe and the beach and the sea and the fish and…” The endless things her mind can see. What could be more inspiring than that?
#Writersbootcampza Day 7