Mama Bear (not her real name) is a recent acquaintance. She reminded me of Artsy (not her real name) a kindred friend I fear I've lost on account of my troubles with big C. We used to be so chummy, Artsy and me. We critique any works of creation like we knew what we're talking about. Our discourses were unusually intellectual and at times far-fetched but we argued our points, we defended our stands and each held on to her differences.
Not that I blamed her, you understand? If I had been in her shoes, I'd probably be avoiding me too. Big C have that effect on people. I saw the fear in her eyes, the polite inquiries she made, the little tremor she suppressed when listening to my agonies. No. I could not blame her. I would have done the same. Artsy by way of her love for art, inspired the creative side of me to emerge from the layers of analytical attribute prioritized by a flawed system.
Friendship is like the rare bird which is perched upon the forest canopy. It rests as long as it should and when the time is right, it flew away. The sun continue rising and setting while Time cajoled the passing hour. The world moved on and so should I.
Mama Bear, though a lot like Artsy looked at art from a different perspective. She saw the imminent possibilities all at once and is quick to grasp the idea and to attend to it. Through her eyes, I now viewed pieces of art work differently.
Not that I blamed her, you understand? If I had been in her shoes, I'd probably be avoiding me too. Big C have that effect on people. I saw the fear in her eyes, the polite inquiries she made, the little tremor she suppressed when listening to my agonies. No. I could not blame her. I would have done the same. Artsy by way of her love for art, inspired the creative side of me to emerge from the layers of analytical attribute prioritized by a flawed system.
Friendship is like the rare bird which is perched upon the forest canopy. It rests as long as it should and when the time is right, it flew away. The sun continue rising and setting while Time cajoled the passing hour. The world moved on and so should I.
Mama Bear, though a lot like Artsy looked at art from a different perspective. She saw the imminent possibilities all at once and is quick to grasp the idea and to attend to it. Through her eyes, I now viewed pieces of art work differently.
Mama Bear introduced me to polymer clay and ribbon art, plus a host of other works of creation, which I shall explore eventually.
For now though, my attention is arrested by the wonders of clay.
I'm thinking of making little figurines and pink panthers swinging upon my crochet balls but - it is so darn difficult, |  |
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