Sometimes I wish I was an artist. What a dream it would be to have a studio and create such meaningful works of beauty with your own hands. To fill notebooks and sketchbooks and journals with visual ideas, all of them waiting to be brought to life.
As I was working on my senior art showcase, I had a professor who gave me some of the best advice I received at college. She said we don’t have to limit the definition of “artist” to someone who can paint or draw. Artists can be any type of creative. I still struggle with this concept, probably because the definition of artist is so ingrained in society as someone who excels at studio art. But I think maybe what she meant was that writers are artists, too. Anyone who dreams, who creates, who makes is an artist.
Still, I am often jealous of people like Mae Chevrette, who makes art so freaking beautiful that I can stare at it for hours. I am so drawn to her style. Simply fascinating. And of course, I’m a goner for a swoon-worthy art blog. Check it out, guys.