This has been a good purging day. We found a homeschooling family that has nothing. Now all the books in my basement have a home, plus some old lamps, blankets, etc.
I had the most fun purging an old box of elementary art of mine. A couple themes recurred in my artwork, witches and girls lost in forests. I’m not sure what that was about. As images sparked memories, I realized that I have always loved art, and I was never a bad artist. I wonder at what point I sentenced myself to be uncreative? Was it negative words from others, or lack of encouragement? I’m not sure, but it happened.
I like to swing in the air. (age 5)
a view from the “old age home” (age 9)
girl in blue with extremely short arms (age 11)
I think at some point the art became about performance and comparison rather than enjoyment of the process. I’m glad to have regressed.