Many moons ago (even more than I’d like to admit, since the recent blue moon) an art teacher once placated my anguish as I agonized over an absurd error that I felt ruined my art FOREVER. Forever seems to be fairly permanent, so I was devastated. On the bright side, her consolation has stuck with me ever since. She said, “An artist never makes a mistake, just as a dancer on stage takes the wrong step and nobody but the dancer is aware.” And man did I take that to heart; I’ve made all kinds of mistakes since then! Mistakes I know about, mistakes I know I don’t know about and mistakes I don’t know I don’t know about. How liberating.
I consider myself to be an artist–I know, a ‘self-proclaimed’ artist, la dee da; but truly, aren’t we all? Every day we wake up and weave another thread into the tapestries of our lives. Every decision we make is a fiber of a different color. The speed at which we work through our lives, one 24 hour chunk of gossamer at a time. Alas, I am not here to guide anyone through some philosophical epiphany that leads them through the congested arteries of fact vs fiction that will eventually illuminate their purpose in life…I’m still looking for mine. I’m here to admit the mistakes I made the other night. I made some huge ones. Grandiose. Irreversible. Unthinkable. And I will gladly show case them right here:
You see, I had the grand opportunity to watch a flamenco show recently, and it was enchanting. I’ve also recently acquired a Nikon D3100, so, every day is a phantastic photographic opportunity. Did anyone know how impossible action shots in low light settings could be? Since I am an ‘artist,’ I intended all the shots to come out just the way they did…