I'm not exactly sure when my quest began. Maybe at birth. Maybe it was when I would color in my coloring book waiting for my mom to finish waiting tables where she worked. I was around four years old. I remember even back in kindergarten my playtime consisted mostly of drawing or coloring pictures. My teacher would force me to play with something different every now and then, but I always found my way back to the easels and the paper.
Why do I feel this insane need to create? My studio is filled with paint, paper, brushes, jewelry supplies and other crafty tools. Some call it a gift, but sometimes I think it is a curse, for ideas will sprout in my brain and nag me until I do something about it. And the ideas do not come one-at-a-time...sometimes several at once. Then there are the dry seasons where no ideas are even on the horizon and my bones ache for a creative thought to put into action. *sigh* It seems a very complicated thing, creativity. An object that is either out of reach, or so close that it is nothing but a blur.
I guess that I take after my Father. He is a creative spirit. Making all things in seven days. Giving life to His ideas and then passing that essence on to His creation. This quest began when I was born and it will end after eternity.
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