Nurture — Days 9 & 10
I’ve had to make many difficult decisions in my life. None of them were related to my art creation; rather, they were the result of very difficult circumstances in my life that I’m not comfortable sharing right now. However, in all cases, since becoming an adult, I’ve been aware that decisions have consequences…which means, to me, that I have to be willing to live with a consequences of any decision before making any final decision.
Nurture — Day 8
Where had I gone wrong this time? I thought I had “loosened up” by choosing not to be photo-realistic. I thought I had picked enough colours to do the setting justice. I thought that I had put enough of myself in the final piece. Nope. Try as I might, I wasn’t able to release myself from the bonds of expecting perfection from my art (and myself). In trying to please my prof, I had missed his central message: I was missing from my art.
Nurture — Days 6 & 7
I began by telling Cynthia of who Shai Halud is to the Fremen of DUNE. I told her of their reverence of this immense creature as both God and Demon (Shaitan). I told her of how the Fremen had learned to co-exist with Shai Halud, respecting its vast Power, using that Power to aid them, and being forever grateful for the gifts it grants.
Nurture — Day 5
The procession started with “Truly, Madly, Deeply” playing over the speakers as our wedding song. It was ended by a literal bang as our Best Lady bumped into an enormous gong before walking down the aisle. It was perfect!! With her stumble, she managed to indicate that the music should stop, out guests should be quiet, and the procession was starting. We still laugh our heads off remembering that 😂.
Nurture — Day 4
When I was this child, I created art in order to create my own worlds. Although I enjoyed reading, I sometimes found it difficult to place myself in the books that were common for children. Creating art gave me the freedom to actually place myself in those stories. Suddenly, I could see myself as Aladdin or Yosemite Sam because I had drawn myself in their worlds. My Marm, like every Mother, saved the “best” of those pieces—which I now have to look at whenever I feel the need to recapture some of the innocence I had as a child.