So, creative readers, I say to you, “Good artists steal,Ĭan You Draw a Straight Line? for crying out loud,” she stared at the yawning abyss before her, an insolently blank sheet of paper, smugly hinting at the arrogance of her even thinking she could draw anything worth looking at, wondering herself if she wasn’t really the artist she thought she was or if all of this daily sturm und drang was worth the scrawl she managed to coax from her charcoals.Įven though we know that there was once a time when weĬheerfully drew with crayons and wrote stories dotted with stickers, our adult Borrowing, for the purpose ofĬreating something new, is what artists do. The best wisdom is a kind of distilled truth, dispensed briefly and delivered boldly. Words should be honored at their face value or their worth is quickly dissipated leaving more people sneaking out at intermission. Making art that makes a difference is not a place for poorly worded advice. Loving composer, she may say, “Oh, this old thing,” while feeling secretly gorgeous. Then, if the listener compliments the dress worn by the cat One might answer, “Fabulous! I absolutely loved it,” even if it sounded more like For example, if asked, “Have you heard my latest meisterstuck?” This is one of those occasions where the wise thing saidĬould have been said better.
Many artists of our time have stated, “Good artists borrow, great artists steal.” You task yourself with dutifully copying your idol’s turn of phrase, style, and voice with casual confidence that this is the path to greatness. Or paint like that artist, sound like that pianist. That’s what I want my words to do, you say. On a journey through a new world with characters so real that you shed tears You know what it feels like with a great book. Recital are no match for a fistful of grasshoppers. Make no mistake, the butterflies of the after dinner piano Were wrestling spiders, Scott Joplin rags leapfrogged across the keyboard. It was fun.Ī Debussy toccata became a handful of fireflies, Bach fugues Suddenly, learning the notes became more of a game. “Think of catching grasshoppers,” said my piano teacher, one day. Me, I was terrified of losing my way through a Ready to squeak out something on her clarinet while I choked on a dumpling. Perform like trained seals starting with my annoying little cousin, always Them all but then they always got such fiendish pleasure trotting us out to
“Oh, not again,” I remember looking out at my family, perched onĬouches with full bellies while butterflies churned in mine, and I really liked Younger set have been rounded up to entertain the elders. This is the time when the dishes have been whisked away and the Grasshoppers after dinner piano recital is equal parts digestion and Joy is not something to be found, but to be formed. Not adding joy to life, but making life joyful, or moonwalking through your day, is the secret of a full life.
I don’t know how to fit everything I loveĭoing in a day without fretting about everything I have to get through in order It seems as if we are looking for ways to insert joyfulĪctivities into our daily lives. What will my life be like now that I have learned more Cantonese, mastered enough basic barbering skills to cut my husband’s hair and discovered a thousand delicious ill advised ways to make homemade gelato? I am really trying hard to resist the temptation to take ukulele lessons. I see it as our natural creative curiosity nudging us to pursue unexpected interests. These days, we are all looking for things to learn or to do, perhaps as a way to take some part of our lives into our own hands in an uncertain world. Pull in your core, and tighten your butt.įinally, as he wobbled into fifth position, he turned off If the discipline of dance was something he was ready to dive into.īarked the bunhead from the screen. It was what happened next that made him wonder Moonwalking Joe, a beer bellied city sanitation worker, springing upįrom flat feet on pointe in relevé wasn’t hard.