I’ve been thinking lately about how extraordinary it is that so many of us continue to make art at all.
Life does not exactly clear a path for creativity. Most artists I know are balancing family, caregiving, work, financial worries, aging parents, endless errands, world events, uncertainty, exhaustion — all the ordinary and extraordinary weights of being human. And yet somehow, in the middle of all that, we still feel the pull to make things.
- We still stop to notice light falling across a table.
- We still save interesting scraps of paper.
- We still arrange objects on a shelf without quite knowing why.
- We still feel that quiet inner nudge that says, “Look at this. Pay attention. This matters.”
Lately, that has begun to feel less like ambition and more like gratitude.
Not gratitude in the greeting-card sense, but something deeper than that. It’s more like a recognition that the creative impulse itself is a kind of companionship we carry through life. It stays with us during difficult seasons. It waits for us when we are distracted or discouraged. And sometimes it rescues us by reminding us that beauty and meaning still exist, even in small forms.
I suspect many artists understand this feeling without needing to explain it to one another.
Even when I’m not actively working in the studio, I realize I’m still moving through the world with an artist’s eye. I’m noticing patterns in shadows, strange color combinations in peeling paint, bits of conversation, fragments of memory, little visual coincidences that feel oddly significant. The world continues to offer things up, and some part of me continues to gather them.
Maybe that’s one of the real gifts of a creative life — not just the art we make, but the way art teaches us to remain awake to the world and to one another.
And honestly, these days, that feels like something worth being deeply grateful for.
I’ve also been wondering if gratitude needs expression — not in a grand public way, but in small personal rituals. Perhaps gratitude for a creative life can take the form of making something that doesn’t need to be sold, exhibited, or even explained. A tiny offering. A stitched fragment. A small clay token. A paper bundle holding kitty fur tied with thread. Something made simply to acknowledge the mysterious fact that our creative spirit is still here with us.
Not a masterpiece. Not content. Not productivity.
Just a silent, heartfelt gesture of thanks.
I love the thought that artists throughout history may have done this in one way or another — making small meaningful objects not for an audience, but for themselves. Little reminders of wonder. Proof of attention. Tokens of survival and delight.
Maybe gratitude itself can become part of the creative practice: not only making art about life, but making something in thanks for being able to see life through the eyes of an artist at all.
Grateful for you –
♥Lyn
Beautiful essay. Grateful for you in my life, too.
Kay, me too – our friendship runs long and strong!
Beautifully expressed!!
Thank you, Carolene – and thank you for your beautiful fiber art and garments and generosity!
Beautifully expressed!!
We are so very grateful for this powerful, poetic reminder of why we do what we do. You have really pinpointed the process beautifully. I hope this gets published and shared widely. So many people will be fed by your words. With gratitude, Zet & Rudi
Sending so many thanks to both of you for the love you give to our community and the beautiful work you do! Are;t we lucky to have each other!? 🙂 ♥
This simply made me smile…
So grateful for you as well.
Sue – you and I share so much – including gratitude for each other!!
And grateful for you, Lyn, the love you share.
Sending a giant hug to you, Lisa – and so many thanks!
I love you so much! Thanks for words of wisdom and love and gratitude.
Thank You!
Lynn, i always enjoy hearing from you and this latest post reflects very closely how i try to live. Blessing to you dear one!
Hello Lynn,BI haven’t seen you for so long. I miss dropping by the shop.
I have retired and am working/playing with a totally new kind of “art.” In trying to deal with nervous energy I picked up some clay I purchased during the lockdown. I tried many kinds of clay and it turns out I am allergic, to the very dirt it is made from, I’m afraid.
But that lead to paper mache. Same goal, totally different feel. I’m not as afraid of “messing up” or finishing with imperfections.
I would love to talk to you about it, if you ever have a moments, give me a ring. My number is 210 884 7328.
I haven’t seen you but I look forward to your online communications like they were a trip to your shop or a wave from nextdoor.
With deep affection,
Judy
Thanks for your wonderful words Lyn. I feel exactly the same and you’ve expressed it so well. ❤️
Judith
I love the idea of questioning why my create and agree that we are responding to the world around us and in us. I love the artwork that is in the post as well!
Sandra