The thing about being an artist is sometimes you’re the last one to know. I spent a lot of my life making art – copying down song lyrics, taking photos of things at odd angles, making up short stories in my head – but I never called it art. I just called it foolishness.
I’ve grown up as a good girl and it’s difficult to be the kind of good girl I was and also be an artist at the same time. Art means risk and risk means courage. I don’t think I was a coward, but I do think I lived life too small.
I’m talking more about this over at Emily Wierenga’s Canvas Child today – and at the end of my post, she has written words that made me cry, words that prove no matter our life experience or our unique story, there are things of the heart that bind all of us together. Here’s a taste:
“I didn’t think this book applied to me. As a pastor’s daughter, I’ve always tried hard to appear bad. Everyone assumed I was good and boxed this artist-soul in. I hate boxes. So I bust free with dreads, facial piercings, stretched ears and a tattoo.”
Visit Canvas Child to read the rest of this post and enter to win a free book. Because we’re doing that this week, giving away lots of free books.
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