Art will Out.

My husband used to say. when we'd go flea marketing, "I could do that if..."
He could be talking about wooden yard cutouts, or concrete statues, or handmade pottery, or plaster busts, or just about any handcraft.

His "if" was usually
"If I had the tools."
"If I had the equipment."
"If I had the space"

I was usually the penny pinching bully who wouldn't "let" him have the whatever he wanted for something he might do. Never mind that he probably never would do any of it.

I knew he wouldn't.

I made this judgement because he could have done many of the things using the tools at hand, but because they weren't specialty tools, he 'couldn't.'

Art doesn't work that way. If you have a need in your soul to create, you create. You don't wait for tools or stop for argument. If the need is in you and has to get out, you use what's at hand and do the best you can.

Period.

I know this, because I write. I write in all conditions, under any, many circumstances. I HAVE dived into trash cans for something to write on. I have used a mascara brush to jot down notes for a plot twist that just came to me as I was waiting in line. I have written with crayon, with full-fledged permanent marker, with broken pencils where I've chipped and peeled the wood away from the lead with my teeth and fingernails, because the words need to get OUT.

If I had no tools or equipment, I created some, I found some, I made some.

The same can be said for those who want to dance, or design, or act, cook, or do any other creative, expression.

There is no "if" in making art.

I'm reminded of this today watching my granddaughter.
She draws.
She paints.
She has taught herself to use the Paint program on the computer. She knows more of how to get it to do what she wants than I do.
If she finds an ink pen, a crayon, a marker, a burned stick, a charcoal briquet, she picks it up and draws a line or a circle with it.
If she has no paper to draw on, she uses a sidewalk, a rock, a board, a wall.

There is no "if" in this child when it comes to her art.

"If" she has no other legacy, I hope this is what she gets from Mammaw.

There is no "if" in "art."

FYI: A caftan is a DRESS

I recently bought myself a caftan. A nice, long, floaty, silky new dress. I haven't really had any new clothes for a long time -- in my size, they are hard to find. Once found, even harder to afford. So I was really happy to find this dress in a catalogue of inexpensive stuff.

The long flowy lines are a favorite of mine, and were before I got so very fat. Probably something to do with growing up during the hippie era. It should, properly, have a sash of scarves or a belt made of lamp pulls or swing chains, I suppose. And feather earrings and headbands, too, I suppose.

I have been choosing to wear mine plain, to enjoy the freedom of something that fits on me, that moves freely, and is slinky soft sliding across my skin.

That decision is going to have to change, though. I'm going to have to wear a belt. If I had any dress shoes, I supposed I'd have to wear them, too. I do have sandals that hurt my hips after twelve steps and my back after a dozen. I'll pass on the headbands -- my head comes with a built in headband, especially on stormy days.

Everyone thinks I am wearing a nightgown. Even the people in my own home think I am wearing a nightgown.

It's a DRESS, people! A fat lady dress, a hippie dress, but still a dress.