A labour of love.......................................................

This post is compliments of the Robert Genn, twice weekly newsletter. Yup! I swiped it from him, total plagiarism, but with his permission as you will read.

A day or so ago, I received an anoyomous comment from someone stating they were inspired by my blog to maybe start one of their own. The letter below is to spure them on to that end.

It very well covers the reasons one writes in the first place, and the benifits they get once they do write. Robert is an artist by trade, I am not. (You should see my stick people....... Never mind you want to keep your vision don't you?) Anyway, life is art, and there are many ways to express art without a paintbrush. Understanding this, A friend ask me if she could sign me up, as she thought I would appreciate how Robert's views can be related to most aspects of life. If any of you want to be signed up, just let me know and we will get it done. If you havn't guessed, the stuff in green are his words. Enjoy!

July 14, 2006

Dear Patty,

Yesterday, as Dorothy and I were scrambling up and down a Cariboo creek, an e-mail came in from Karen Dawson of Burlington, Vermont. "I wonder," she asked, "if you would be willing to talk about your writing process; how it feels to be committed to two essays a week, and how, or what dimension that commitment adds to your big picture.

"Thanks, Karen. Imagine a magic box with a screen in the lid through which you could talk regularly and share exchanges with like-minded members of a worldwide community. My Toshiba laptop is that magic box. (Today, as well as splattered with paint, it's all sandy and sticky with the bloody bodies of sacrificial mosquitoes.) Indoors or out, this box is a studio window and a vital instrument of my private tutelage.

The writing of notes, letters and journals is good for creators. Writing is learning. Writing shares joy, delight, triumph, struggle, disappointment and disaster. The free exchange of ideas and processes helps us to think about what we are doing and where we're going. This mutuality is part of our self-education. In a lifetime of painting I've learned that subjects taken for granted need often to be revisited and re-examined. And like all of us, I have minor epiphanies and esoteric insights. As if they were mosquitoes, I swat them down into this magic box. Sometimes, as you've probably noticed, the stuff gets a bit weird.

I generally write the letter the night before you get it. I most often write what's on my mind. If I'm up some creek and I'm stuck for a theme, I look in my inbox--as I did just now. At other times I dig around in our own Resource of Art Quotations. As soon as a letter is completed, it goes out to fourteen of our "letter reviewers." These volunteer editors don't have to respond, but when they do, I almost always take their advice. Then the letter gets sent on to everybody. Right now, at the rate of four letters per second, it takes about fourteen hours for our dedicated server to personalize and send every one. I'm aware that many subscribers print the letters out and pass them around. Many are copied to blogs, e-mail lists, school curricula, club newsletters and print media. Because many of the concerns of artists are universal and timeless, I have the feeling that a few of these letters may be around for a while. That thought alone keeps me going.

Best regards,

Robert

PS: "All education must be self-education." (Robert Henri)

What do you think?