A lot of people spend their whole lives trying to find a great job or person. For me I was in love before I knew what that was. Sounds weird, right? Allow me to explain…
I have ALWAYS been an artist. My earliest memories are of drawing; in dirt, mud,, paper, sidewalks, homework, lol. I’m a people watcher by nature, which makes me an introvert perhaps, but I can mimic your mannerisms. So far it’s been enough.
They say it takes ten thousand hours to master any skill. So if you start at, say, three and you’re now forty six… you should be okay, right?
The REAL trick was uncoupling my skills from my emotions. Because over the years it became tied to my anger and frustration. That part almost killed me. Honestly, it’s not completely done yet. Sometimes it’s still trying to kill me. I’m aware of this. I fight it. Mostly.
I’m telling you all this because I recently had a VERY confusing interaction with another artist. He’d only just started and was doing really well. He was asking me what it was like when I started out and I had no answers for him. He may as well have asked me what my first breath tasted like, you know?
He became irritated with me and decided to unfriend me because I was selfish and didn’t want to help him. But I couldn’t. But it made me feel bad. So, I guess I’m going to have to take classes.