I say I’ve been drawing all my life, because it’s as least as long as I remember.
No, really- I have memories of lining up my teddies and drawing their portraits (that’s right, I was THAT kid).
Somewhere in my wayward teenage years I forgot about my pencils, then one day, while at home on maternity leave shortly after having our first child, I picked up a black pigment liner and created a decorated ‘E’ for her room.
It took me a little while to get the confidence back up to try for realism again, but I’m so glad that I did, as drawing is what I absolutely love to do.
So here I am , in my thirties, and finally having a go at selling my artwork. I’ve been putting it off for a while now, (all my life), somehow convinced that you can’t get paid to do what you truly love – where did I learn this? How was this ‘starving artist’ image planted in my head? Never mind, I’ve politely turned away from that view, and have instead decided to take that terrifying first step (a tiny step, as it were) to see what happens.
Because: imagine. Imagine if I didn’t have to do the 9-5’er anymore. Imagine if I could stay at home with my wonderful daughters, drawing, and doing what I love, for a living. Because that is the message that I crave to demonstrate to them: you work to live, not live to work, darlings. And your life should really be lived in exclamation…
