There
had been a time when I was very enthusiastic on drawing &
sketching. Since early childhood in fact. I still do it, though less
than occasionally, but more than often most appreciative, in awe
sometimes, seeing what is to me a fabulous or fascinating painting or
even just a casual sketch. The more I admire such art, the less
confidence I have in my own ability to draw, sketch or paint.
I
never pretend I know much about art, just what I like and what I don't
basically. Sometimes, when I look at a well acclaimed painting or other
form of art work that was admired by many, winning praises from
critics and fetching millions in auctions, I would look hard and deep
and think to myself 'I can do that!'
Like the painting I saw today published in the local press, taken from an art exhibition on now in a well known gallery, featuring
a variety of household knick-knacks: small tools and utilities
including some clothes pegs of varied sizes and colours, the kind of
small notepads you see often by the telephone, and what look like
eyebrow tweezers, and a bunch of assorted keys. After proclaiming 'I
can do that!' (something I've done time and time again), what usually
follows in my thought is: 'No, I won't do that.'
Obviously
I don't possess that quality of able to see and combine a variety of
common and ordinary household debris into art on canvas. That has to be
the reason that I am not, and never will be, an artist. Now I am going
to cry my heart out.
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