I recently wondered what I'd be doing if I didn't do art. Surprisingly, I did well at math and algebra in high school. Perhaps I'd have enjoyed crunching numbers as an accountant. (Can't even balance a checkbook now.) Or, I might have become a dedicated musician. I taught myself to play on our neighbor's baby grand until my mom finally shelled out the bucks for lessons and a used spinet piano. Either choice would have opened doors to some interesting ventures.
The fact is, I was drawing before I was in kindergarten. Had it not been for that, I may have developed a primary passion for something other than image making. But, like many who find their bliss early on, it's invariably something that chooses them, not the other way around. Go for it!
I continually push myself to refine my technique. Creating a drawing or a painting challenges me to keep my skills in shape in order to bring a level of believability to a figure, an object, a landscape. Every effort put forward eventually leads to that moment of satisfaction when the image that was once floating in my imagination, finally stares back at me with a life all its own.
I enjoy when that quiet dialog between me and an inspiration turns into something tangible in the world, all because I taught my hand how to move a marking device onto a surface. There's something personal involved in that process; a direct contact with imagination. For me, that's some cool form of alchemy.
I try to be aware of how technique and intent merge and work with one another. I realize as my artwork matures, it feels as if a painting does some of the thinking for me. It's a strange way to describe it, but, it's no different than sleeping on a problem, and waking in the morning with a solution. I suppose the act of creating truly embraces that magical part of ourselves.