There are photos and audio recordings commemorating my first creative moment. That's what Grammas are for. I took my Grampa's newspaper from the kitchen table, opened it up in the middle of the living room floor, and plopped my still diapered bum on top of it. I ran my finger along the lines of print, babbling and nodding with my eyebrows raised, authoritatively recounting some sort of fantastical, fictional piece of news.
I was precocious to say the least. In reviewing my rapid fire answers to "Your Creative Autobigoraphy" I realize that some of my best creative acts and moments have been uninhibited and sometimes unsafe. When I decided, for example, that it was time to graduate from big wheel to bicycle, I simply asked my neighborhood playmate if I could try his out. Imagine being my Dad, hearing me screaming frantically for him to "hurry" and rushing out the front door all sorts of worried about what kind of terrible injury I must have suffered this time, only to find me speeding around the cul-de-sac on two wheels. I just do things. Sometimes the results are favorable. Sometimes, not so much.
If gusto and vigor are my superpowers, then inhibition is my self imposed kryptonite. I have to remind myself that nobody analyzes and scrutinizes me as much as, well, me. "I say there's trouble when everything is fine," is a line from my all time favorite musician. "The need to destroy things creeps up on me every time." All of my favorite artists, as varied as they are, share intrapersonal intelligence and some apparently comfortable skin. I'm still growing into mine. Many women will agree that what is comfortable one day is anything but on another. "I'm a work in progress," another of my favorites has claimed. Staying out of my own way is a craft I'm cultivating as I go.
-K
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