The young have sharp genius, grand ambitions, keen senses, and a clear mind. Those of us fortunate enough to age a long time find all the facilities dimming and eroded. We claim to be more experienced and wiser, but (even if true) it is not a great trade-off .
Visual artists generally notice these problems acutely. Sight is not as sharp, arthritis limits actions, muscles tremble. We notice the “decline” in the late works of most of them. Renoir with brushes strapped to his hands, Monet with nearly abstract water lilies, and oh so many who just stopped when they could no longer produce quality work .
But times change. Visual art is less bound to “reality” and any clumsy effort can be advertised as what was planned. I’ve taken a slightly different approach. I am drawing what I see and how I can do, not what anyone else sees and can do . I’m not in competition. My glory is in being unique, including accepting all the limits of being elderly .
Sure, that’s a self-serving rationalization. Pretending to be talented is not the same as being so. But the other thing about being old is that none of that really matters. That is simply a joyous activity filling time with art .
Finding my current limits, and using them as well as possible rather than concealing them or pretending they don’t exist is a kind of fun game. And I happily use it in other areas of life as well
HuntingtonHarborThoughts 