Legends from our own lunchtimes

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

I was asked this morning why I was polishing my old shoes. A hastily mumbled something about not wanting to damage the new ones before the big night seemed to placate things for a time, besides if I wore the new clobber to the bank this morning they'd think I didn't own anything else, which admittedly would be fairly close to the mark.

It is fair to say that the drive in to town this morning was a strangely nervous time, mixed with a tinge of excitement, all the while with an eye out for poor Waiting riding in the trailer behind.

But we made it, and from the moment we reached the foyer of the office even I could see that the feedback we had been getting was not just a sap to boost my confidence.  Now placed throughout the premises, my paintings have indeed taken on the life that I had hoped for them but was never confident  despite the kind murmurings of others, of having achieved.

I had regularly used the word "impostor" in discussions about myself as an exhibiting artist, certain that nothing I had done would stand up to scrutiny, that my lack of experience would be as obvious to others as it was to me and as I lived with these things night and day for those months earlier in the year my confidence continued to falter. I could only do my best and hope that those around me who were attempting to underpin my insecurity were right.

Perhaps because I lived too closely with them as a project, perhaps because each time I visited another gallery and saw the technical skill of "proper" artists I came away more despondent about my own feeble scratchings, my doubts lingered, but today for a fleeting moment seeing them hanging in an extraordinarily foreign environment, I even felt proud of them.   Grateful as I am to all of those who have provided so much support and encouragement along the way I can now say that I am comfortable and even satisfied with this year's output.  Thank-you, you know who you are.

I think that after tomorrow, I'll wear the title "peintre" without a cringe.

Now that I'm an artist, I reckon I'll get away with wearing homely old shoes.



Anonymous said...

you should feel so proud... and definitly keep wearing the old shoes lest people think you are just another dilletante’

Joan Elizabeth said...

Ooo it does look terrific.

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