At times there is a sense of unreality in my personal journey of expression.
I've listened to the experts in Textile Art and I've looked at their art in a dispassionate way at times and in wonder at others.
I have a card in my purse that tells me I am a "Professional Artist" but by whose level of quality and attainment?
In my early days there were times when I've sabotaged myself by believing I need to follow a path of textile righteousness set down by the "experts"
A friend who writes wonderful poetry gave me some advise….
FOLLOW YOUR BLISS.
Thanks for the advice.
Yesterday, a young woman in class came up to me at the end of the day.
She took my arms in hers an nervously asked me to listen.
"I have something to say" she said emotionally. "My English is bad, so my son wrote this for me."
She pulled out a piece of notebook paper folded in four from her pocket. The note in pencil had been written by a young child. Simply she read the note, her voice breaking and tears forming in her eyes…The words rolled into an emotional bubble and I can't even remember them fully, but she thanked me for sharing my ideas with her.
That's my bliss… that's my place and it's different to being a Mum, or a Wife, a daughter and a friend.
It's my bliss, it's my place and it's taken me almost 60 years to find it.
But how lucky I am.