For the longest time I only considered myself an artist when if I had a camera in my hand.
Then I remembered all the years I had danced throughout my childhood. My mother took me to countless dance classes, recitals, auditions and summer workshops. I was influenced and taught by some amazing dancers. Performing in The Nutcracker ballet in Houston is still one of my favorite childhood memories.
Years later I picked up a journal and began to write. At first it was a daily summary of my life, then it became a place for me to vent and rant. Often times I found I would write prayers and create short stories. One day I put my journal on the internet, and here we are 4 years later!
I then walked into an art supply store and purchased a set of paint brushes and my first canvas. Well maybe it wasn’t my very first canvas but it was the first painting I ever finished, felt proud of and ended up selling to a random stranger at an art fair.
Recently I walked onto a stage and picked up a microphone. My heart began to speak in a new way. There is a different level of vulnerability when I sing then when I paint or dance or even write music. Speaking takes little effort. When I sing, it comes from my core; deep down at the center of who I am.
And now here I sit surrounded by journals, songwriting sheets, a book outline, photos that need to be edited, two blank canvases and a new pair of dance shoes just screaming to be broken in. Everyday I wake up and feel that longing deep in my soul to create- something, anything. I guess that’s the way of an artist.
As artists, we belong to an ancient and holy tribe. We are the carriers of the truth that spirit moves through us all. When we deal with one another, we are dealing not merely with our own human personalities but also with the unseen but ever-present throng of ideas, visions, stories, poems, songs, sculptures, art-as-facts that crowd the temple of consciousness waiting their turn to be born. (Julia Cameron)
The creative process is a process of surrender, not control.