I have a web site, and I blog. I had a wee piece in the local newspaper. And I tried to get people to come to my Exhibit(ion), and some do. Yet, it's kind of unnerving when strangers know my name and ask me about my time in the US or about my mother and tell me it is nice to finally meet me - and I have no idea who they are or what they do.

I'm so glad I never made it to Hollywood. I love my basement, thank you.


Maureen said...

hmmmm, your blog could be your basement ... that is an interesting thing about blogging or having a presence on the web -- you are putting your inner thoughts and inspirations and ruminations out here for anyone and everyone to see/read/feek/respond to. But isn't that also what you are doing, in a sense, by making and exhibiting art? you are baring your soul (to use an overused cliche ...heheh) I guess I would have loved to have been one of those strangers waltzing into your exhibit and tell you it's nice to finally meet you in person, Meg. ;-D

Meg said...

Maureen, I agree that we exhibit because we want to show what we can do, and through our work, we show bits of ourselves, but I'm not sure if I've achieved that stage where I can say, "my work is me". It could mean I don't put enough of myself into my work?

Living as an artist is so difficult, I envy people who feel they have to create to live; for examples, writers who "cannot but write" or who don't write but "the stories come to me". At this stage my weaving is far more deliberate and mechanical, though still great fun.

I used to think that when one grows up, at one stage one stopped growing up and achieved the state of being grown-up; likewise, I'm starting to see that living as an artist is not a stage we achieve, but is a continuing process until we stop creating. Yikes, it's a lot of work, Maureen. And we will meet some day; I'm starting to feel rather sure of it.