I am a worrier. I worry about real things, such as bills and projects and deadlines and health. I worry whether I come across as self-centered or self-pitying. I worry that I am those things. I worry about how not to be those things. I worry a lot.
art
Embrace Messiness
When I was a kid, my mom gave me motherly wisdom as most mothers do: “To have friends you have to be friendly; if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all; you have to get messy to make art.” All true statements and all not readily absorbed, especially the first and third ones. To the first, I was a shy kid who struggled to make friends, and, to the second, I hated to get messy. I loved art, but I hated to get paint or glue all over my hands. Perhaps I already was exhibiting an inclination toward perfectionism.
Where’s Your Confidence?
When I paint woodland animals or dinosaurs or trees or oceans, I have to trust that the brushstrokes will result in something akin to those four things. I can’t tell when I’m painting; I’m too close to the wall. All I see is colors blending together. It’s only when I step away from the wall and have some distance that I can see correctly. I see that I have, in fact, painted a sheep or a fox or a deer. The tree is convincing. The crashing waves actually look like crashing waves.
Tone is Everywhere
Tone is, according to Perrine’s Literature, “the emotional coloring, or the emotional meaning, of the work.” Not only is it the “coloring,” but it also is the writer’s or speaker’s “attitude toward the subject, the reader, or herself or himself.” Tone, then, is found in speech. It’s found in writing. It’s found in music, and it’s found in art. Tone is everywhere.
Write Right: Freedom
Write Right: Summer Reading
