I blog with a small group of other bloggers. It's some of the best writing I've ever come across. Some of the very very most gigantically brilliant minds. Yet, on good days they may get 3 or 4 comments.

Others like me have lamented this. Truth is, we shouldn't lament, but like all creative people we love to slather our egos with validation.

My blog site is one venue. The other venue I use is Facebook where I share links. On occasion I post silly stuff. I have a sense of humor. I can be bawdy, irreverent. But most stuff I post at FB is not borrowed from someone else... it's a part of me... a chunk of my heart and soul hoping to connect with others.

Yearning for validation sucks. It really really sucks. Sucks.

If a tree falls in the forest...



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This is the dealio that I think most creative people would agree with - it's the process we love. It is for me, anyway. That's why trying to sell my art or words has never appealed to me. This is just me, odd little me... whenever I've created for commerce, I've lost interest. It's the process I enjoy. Any gain is discovered in my own mirth - or the wonderful moment I feel I've connected with another.

So, I need to learn to accept that it's okay if my words fall in the forest and no one hears them. I need to remind myself over and over and over again that it's okay because it's the process I enjoy so much.


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One of my favorite stories about myself:

Years ago I made a cane. I covered it with small unpainted crosses. In the center of each cross I glued an Advil. I was in a dark place with lots of pain. I was angry. God wasn't saving me - Advil was.

The cane went to a gallery in the high desert of California. After a week, the owner called and said she had to hide the cane in the back room. The residents of the area found it confusing and too disturbing.

I retrieved the cane and entered it in a juried show in Laguna Beach. Not only did it win Best of Mixed Media - it won Best of Show. Talk about validation!

A couple of years later a new neighbor visited my home. She made a beeline for the cane. She became extremely animated and flush with discovery and blurted over and over again, "I get your art. I get your art. I get your art!" She proceeded to explain my intentions - that God works with doctors to heal.

Um, no.

But I looked at her with utter and complete gratitude and said, "Yes. You're right."

She smiled. So content. I'd validated her interpretation.

She gifted me with something every creative person wants - people discovering meaning even if it's vastly different than intended.

It's like one song might make a person smile with fond remembrance - another person might weep. Interpretations are the ultimate gift to an artist. Well, that's what I think anyway.


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As always, thanks for stopping by to visit with this cranky old lady.