it was a breathtakingly, achingly beautiful exhibition at NGV in Melbourne....
.... moved me to tears... and being privy to the work of the master has left me wondering so much about where to go with my own creative work....
With spring growth putting on a spurt, I am drawn outside to the garden, to create & maintain... inside the cluttered studio tells the story of someone who has never specialised in, or perfected any medium...
I confess, I am an art Floozie, with a capital F! I haven't had one life-long passionate love affair with any particular medium, in fact I'll play with any pretty thing that comes along! Some may be horrified at my lack of fidelity, but I simply can't pass up a new creative experience...... yet I don't consider myself "dilettante", which implies being hopeless... I am brilliantly, blissfully happy in all my art relationships...
There is potential for creative expression in almost any activity, whether tidying my personal space, or making something for others...
I like to make my work from many blended elements - knitting with 30 or 40 colours thrills me, and mosaics that employ varying shades of hundreds of carefully cut pieces of glazed tile delight me...
I'd never make a meal from one ingredient, yet those I choose must compliment & balance each other, lest they result in indigestion, and a badly executed painting has a similar effect on the mind.... on it goes, into every area of my life, this ordering, this impossible quest for beauty & perfection....
So, I think life generally, is an opportunity to express myself & connect with my inspiration, whatever I happen to be doing at the time...
BUT, is this art? Is a life well lived one in which creativity has been priority, as well as pleasure?
A reason for living could be to create a channel through which the Arwen flows unimpeded... but is it art?
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