Creative Call--The past. I believe that I gradually stopped doing "my" art. I spent a lot of time drawing and coloring and painting when I was very young.

Forgiveness--For part of this process, I need to let go of discouraging things that others have said to me. The following letters are to those people. It has been hard to do this for some reason, especially the first one, my wonderful Dad.
No. 1
Dear Dad,

You are the person that I most admired and loved and respected in the world. I know that you encouraged me to do my art, because I loved to do it. But I loved to do it, at least in part, because you encouraged me. I remember you asking me to draw something or color or paint something for you sometimes, and I believe you really were happy with my "work." Once--it had to be before I was 12, you asked me to color the trucks you designed--I was so proud that you would ask me to do it. Another time, my first year of college, I decorated your light above your new pool table for either your birthday or Christmas, I forget which. I worked as a real artist would--drawing and designing, choosing colors, placement on the light fixture. You really seemed to love it. I knew you really never thought I would be an artist, and so, I didn't believe in myself either. It was just something I did for fun, or "crafts" like Mom was into. When I was in high school, thinking about what I wanted to do with my life, I brought up majoring in art. You shot that down, saying that there were a lot of "starving artists" in the world, and the world didn't need another one. I'm not saying that my life was full of art, because I really had no confidence after seeing other's art. I just wasn't good enough to make it, and you just reinforced that. That hurt me, even though I believe now that you were just trying to get me to make a decent living and not struggle so much. I majored in psychology, and went to school for my masters in library science and guess what??? I still don't make a decent living! I might as well majored in art! I wouldn't be any worse off.

I have forgiven you, but I can't put all the blame on you. I'm slightly more mature now, and know it is a character flaw in me, that didn't follow through with my dreams--any of them.

No.2
Dear Sister Agnes,

You were my first teacher and you encouraged me and made me feel like I was your favorite (although I found out later you had other favorites). You taught me a lot, and tried to get me to be more outgoing by giving me the lead in the Christmas play (in which I was terrified). The greatest hurtful thing you did, and I'm not really sure it was you, but it was a nun, was "helping" me draw my picture with pastels. In either first or third grade art class, I made a floral arrangement, but it was too small to suit you (and you were probably right), but you took the chalk out of my hands, and quickly made my flowers bigger. I was always slow and meticulous, the last one finished at lunch, so maybe you were trying to speed me up. We had open house soon after, with an art contest, and I won 3rd place for that drawing that you did. My mom and dad were so happy, and everyone congratulated me, but I didn't feel good about that. I don't remember if I tried to tell someone that I didn't do it, but if I did, I was told that she just helped me. I kind of felt robbed of my own art, but I just let it go because it was nice to win at something.

No.3
Dear Mrs. Campbell,

You were my first real art teacher. I know you were friends with my Aunt Nancy, but you weren't really friends with me. You were always trying to get me to hurry up. I think you did praise me for my skill, I think, but I don't really remember specific instances. I did not look forward to your class, but dreaded it because it put a lot of pressure on me. I think you could have done more to draw me out, but instead you alienated me. I think this was a cross roads. Even though Mom and Dad asked me if I wanted art lessons, and I said no, I still think I thought all art teachers would be like you and I didn't want the pressure.

No.4
Dear Mom,

You encouraged me somewhat with my art, music, whatever, but you never helped me with a direction. I guess you left that up to Dad. Maybe I just quit listening to you--I thought that I was smarter than you very early on--oh, believe me, I don't think so now! You wanted me to be the outgoing cheerleader type like you were--that was definitely not me.

No.5
Dear Jim,

You know, I think you liked those little pictures I made you when we were first going out. I enjoyed making them for you. I don't think that you ever took my art seriously, I don't think you thought I was all that good at it. But then again, I majored in Psychology, and you knew this, and 15 years later told me that Psychologists were scammers, I realized that you didn't believe in me about that either. I'm afraid that I don't know what you think of me when you say you love me. I feel like you think it's just easier to humor me than to talk to me.