People always like to compare one’s artwork to children.  “How can you sell that? It must be like your child!”  I am thinking about this comparison today as I gaze at the completed tapestry I wrote about yesterday — as yet, un-named.

Like your children, your art is part of you.  You created it: without you it would have no life.  But what I am thinking today is that, like with your children, it is impossible to be objective.  You love it to pieces; you are overly critical.  You learn to speak less critically, to give pure love, then you worry you will spoil it.  And it is now about to gain its own independent life, your work with it is complete and you have to let it go.  But it is easier to do that if you understand it first.

So I look at this piece which seems incredibly flawed (no photos today!!) and wonder what I have wrought, was it worth all the anxiety?  All the loving care & time lavished on it?  And I have to learn to look at it with love before I can actually see what — who — it is.  (I will tell you this: she is really odd!  that might be good.)