Today my children are celebrating the 100th day of school, an acknowledgment of their practice. I am on day 11 of my 100 day project. It is the second time I am venturing to show up 100 consecutive days to honor my creativity.
Last year I painted flowers with watercolors on little pieces of paper. Each day I did, I reclaimed fragments of myself that I left behind. I untangled old beliefs that in order to be an artist I needed to be proficient at still lives and landscapes. I believed those skills warranted the use of the title “artist”. I also had to lovingly bring back to life the parts of me that died each time I experienced rejection, criticism, or being looked over for creative endeavors. I never was the cream of the crop. And I equated that – to not being a real artist.
I recovered that sense of myself, and will be forever grateful. I am an artist of many mediums. I use words, paint, beads, and flowers to bring to beauty to form. For these 100 days, I am working in my little art journal. That is the structure, and then I just get to show up, and keep showing up especially when I am underwhelmed with what I have created the day(s) before. I practice.