Uncertainty in the human path
When your kids show your their art work, you have two options:
- You can pick it apart.
- You can enjoy it for what it is.
You have the same options for your own artwork.
My kids have been inspiring me lately.
My son's been drawing anime- and manga-inspired characters.
My daughter's been writing little notes all over the place.
They're both amateurs. My son's drawings are full of imperfect lines. My daughter's learning to read and write, so there are errors galore. But despite these imperfections—or, more accurately, because of these imperfections—they each have a style that is undeniably their own.
Their creations are the coolest things I've ever seen. They touch me far more than anything by Picasso or Shakespeare or any other expert or master.
Maybe they're to blame for my recent shift in journaling: random sketches with captions in ALL CAPS.
I don't expect my sketches to win any awards or go viral in any sense. But I can't help loving them all the same. It's not that I think my sketches are great or better than anyone else's. But I see some unconscious characteristics in them. I'm also interested in the conscious choices I make.
Why do I see and present things in the light I do? Dunno. But it's still fun to see.
How far will I take this recent interest in sketching? Will it pass in a week? Will it become something I maintain purely for myself? What if it led to my creating a webcomic?
What if all my minimalist writing has prepared me for a more visual artform?
Anything is possible, which also means that none of it is also possible.
This situation is part of the human experience. Is this meandering a detour? Is it a new path leading to a previously unconsidered destination? Is it only another tool in my belt for my own personal mental health care?
I don't know. And I don't know when—or if—I ever will.
Uncertainty is a crucial element of the human experience. And, sometimes, uncertainty is a good thing.
