I told the universe (and anyone who would listen) that I was committed to living a creative life not in order to save the world, not as an act of protest, not to become famous, not to gain entrance to the canon, not to challenge the system, not to show the bastards, not to prove to my family that I was worthy, not as a form of deep therapeutic emotional catharsis . . . but simply because I liked it.
Elizabeth Gilbert, Big Magic
With college winding down for Christmas vacation (all that remains for me is administering final exams Friday, then grading them), I am feeling the glow of this holiday season. Returning to the studio to work on watercolors is lifting my spirits, as well as looking up from time to time at the tree in the studio and listening to Christmas music throughout the days and nights. More shopping awaits, but I’ll get to that soon.
I’m glad Elizabeth Gilbert published what I have felt in these later years of my life, and wish I could have hit her level of maturity in my earlier years as she apparently did. I still like the attention received when my art is published, but I finally reached the point that I no longer craved competition and receiving awards and recognition. I also stopped worrying over whether or not Mom & Dad & former teachers were proud of what I’ve accomplished. In these senior years, I finally came to realize that I indeed experience genuine joy and renewal in the practice of making art; I love the work. Today was given largely to working on a full-page watercolor, and I was on the verge of tears of gratitude that I was given the luxury to labor over the composition. Tomorrow promises more of the same. And then next week, once grades are finalized and posted, I’ll have even more time to create.
I have said this in recent years–I have more fun and pleasure creating watercolors than sitting in a festival booth or gallery selling them, even when sales are spectacular. The rush of a sale comes nowhere near the rush I feel when I see something happening at the end of my brush that comes as a surprise and a key unlocking secrets for more successful works in the future.
The college final exam schedule has crimped my gallery lifestye for this weekend. I won’t be finished giving exams till late Friday afternoon. So Sandi will be leaving for Palestine without me tomorrow to run The Gallery at Redlands Thursday and Friday (till 9 pm each night) without me. I’ll finally join in our effort Saturday.
With more time to write, I’ll try to keep a more consistent schedule of blogging and sharing the news down here. I’m still trying to find my way in Instagram, but you can see my work there as well.
Thanks for reading.
Recollections 54 The Art of David Tripp 
December 9, 2021 at 11:25 am |
I have to agree that anyone else’s appreciation of my art — or writing — runs a far second to my personal enjoyment of creating it. And that truth reminds me of something one of the best editors and writing teachers of my experience told his students. Michael Seidman told his creative writing students that when all is said and done, “YOU are the first person who needs to be satisfied with your work. Your editor is second.” In one of his books on writing and publishing, he repeated that statement again and again to make the point. I believe it’s true in all kinds of art. Hope you and your family have a truly blessed and joyous Christmas, David.
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December 9, 2021 at 12:00 pm |
Thank you for that, Sandra! I wish I had had a Michael Seidman in my formative years. Maybe I did, and just didn’t listen. My art did indeed fuel me during all those sleepy school years, but I recall so little of what instructors tried to drill into me. That liberating word is so rare in our lives. Thank you again for sending this out. And I hope you and yours have a splendid holiday season.
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December 14, 2021 at 10:39 am |
Currently I am going through this process of accepting my own work and style while resisting the urge to compare my art and poetry with that of others. My goal (spiritually and psychologically) is for that act of comparison and subsequent jealousy to lose its appeal. And it is working. What I like best about this process is the feeling of liberation when I achieve this daily goal, freeing me up to make better art and better poetry than I ever could under the previous, self-imposed burden. And now I can appreciate others’ work and recognize their personal style. Rather than be debilitated by viewing it, I admire it and am inspired by it. I think the common thought is this change occurs when a person is older or more experienced. But I believe it can happen at anytime during a person’s life or career. It happens when the individual is personally mature and ready to take that next step. For me, I was weary of being burdened and I didn’t like who I was inside. I’m humble enough to know I’m not ‘cured’ but my attitude is so much better. I feel at peace and look forward to the direction I’m heading!
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December 19, 2021 at 11:17 am |
Barbara, your words have resonated with me for days now! I’ve been trying to find a way to respond, and now just came across this reading from Elizabeth Gilbert’s “Big Magic”–a word from Tom Waits that fits my past quite accurately: “Waits told me that he’d struggled deeply with his creativity in his youth because–like many serious young men–he wanted to be regarded as important, meaningful, heavy. He wanted his work to be better than other people’s work. . . . There was anguish, there was torment, there was drinking, there were dark nights of the soul. He was lost in the cult of artistic suffering, but he called that suffering by another name: dedication. But through watching his children create so freely, Waits had an epiphany: It wasn’t actually that big a deal. He told me, ‘I realized that, as a songwriter, the only thing I really do is make jewelry for the inside of others people’s minds.’ Music is nothing more than decoration for the imagination.'” I guess that all I can say for myself is this–I competed with other artists for far too long in my life, wasting many precious years. Once I discovered that the mere process of making art did much more for me than receiving recognition or $, things improved immenselfy. Art is now my therapy, my life’s breath. And recently, the only thing standing in the way was work (I accepted a teaching contract for the fall semester) and I realized how much I MISSED having quiet and space to do nothing more than make a piece of art, even if it was “bad” art! I just hope I can live enough years to make up for all that loss, all that unnecessary anguish of thinking I just wasn’t good enough . . .
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