My Precious

I remember back in art school, during a critique my professor, Marvin, asked for a piece of charcoal. I nervously gave him a drawing implement, and, to my horror, he proceeded to scrawl over my carefully rendered, finished ink drawing. It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion.

I can't recall what he was trying to teach me, but I sure learned something. Today that drawing and other muddy student works of its ilk aren't adorning anyone's walls; at best they are in the box under my bed if they aren't buried in a trash heap. In the process of learning, I would have been better served by experimenting more, acknowledging weaknesses, and worrying less about preserving my legacy. For someone who professes more interest in the process of art rather than the product, I have a tendency to work conservatively and hoard my favorite pieces.

Perhaps this has something to do with the free postcards. I'm at a point now where I'd like to sell my work, but I need to liberate myself from the impulse to keep all the good stuff. Our house is full already. Each postcard is made with the expectation that I will be giving it up-- my reward has to be in what I learn from making it and the knowledge that someone else will enjoy it. It's definitely a different mindset.