Kathleen Valenti

The Art of Arting

In my (mumbles number) years on the planet, I’ve learned a lot about myself.

I’ve discovered that I can go an alarming amount of time without water or vegetables. That I have ridiculously strong opinions about punctuation, but little else. And that I’ll channel my inner Weird Al to belt out a parody of “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover” in order to sell a concept at work.

Last weekend, I discovered something new:

I have zero artistic ability.

I knew I wasn’t an artiste. I’ve never spent hours (or minutes) sketching the world around me. I don’t have an innate talent for transforming the ordinary into the extraordinary. When it comes to interior décor, my taste is pretty much relegated to my actual taste buds.

But having written for my supper my entire adult life, I figured some of that “make pictures with words” ability should translate to “make pictures with pictures.”

Nope nope nope.

Exhibit A:

My friends, I took an actual class to create this wonder.

Over several hours.

With the assistance of an instructor.

My takeaway: If I were still in preschool, I would be crushing art time, right after my nap and graham crackers.

Turns out, I don’t have a secret talent that’s so secret I don’t even know about it. On the other hand, I had a blast in class. I met some lovely people and had fun pretending to create something interesting.

The experience reminded me that we’re all still getting to know ourselves. I’m surprised at how often I surprise myself. Even those who know us well don’t know the entirety of who we are. How can they? As consistent as we are, our mettle is continually tested by the fires of experience.

Sometimes we harden. Sometimes we bend.

It’s helpful to keep this in mind as I make people out of (metaphorical) whole cloth for my books. No matter how deep of a backstory I craft, no matter how detailed my character studies are, characters are going to grow, regress, learn, forget, lose heart and win the day. This same-but-different malleability in characters is one of the things I love best about reading and writing. Heck, it’s one of the things I love best about life.

I just won’t be painting a picture about it anytime soon.

How about you, my friends: have you learned something about yourself? Do you have a secret talent?

44 thoughts on “The Art of Arting”

  1. Kathleen,
    Great and thought provoking. You had to go there, didn’t you?
    What have I learned about myself in the last few years?
    I will always think of others instead of myself. With everything happening that I have to take care of, I still forget to take care of me. I’ve tried, it don’t work. Even at Malice, I spend the weekend making sure others have a great time, and doing things to help out, without being asked.
    What secret talent do I have? I am much better at telling stories than writing them. I can spin yarns like there no tomorrow. I entertain people at parties (nope, not afraid of speaking in public, but I can’t approach someone and do small talk if my life depended on it), but when I try to write, there’s always a brick wall I’m fighting to push down.

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    1. Your other-focused-ness is such a beautiful part of who you are. I hope you can find a way to be as kind to yourself as you are to others. ❤ And that writing wall is so hard to scale! I absolutely love your ability to spin yarns. I'll listen any time!

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  2. Brava to you, Kathy, for giving the art thing a go! No hidden talents here. One thing I’ve learned recently is how much the time I spend following sports has changed. For most of my life, I was your typical sports junkie. If a game was on, especially baseball, I was watching. Then the pandemic hit and all sports went away. While the pandemic was truly awful, I realized that not following sports led to a noticeable decrease in my daily stress level. A few years down the road, and I don’t miss following sports, and the inevitable stress that goes with rooting for the home team. Go figure!

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    1. That’s so funny you say that, JC. We’re not a real sports family here, but I never miss a Broncos game. I find it fun and never really care who wins. But my husband watches it like he’s just bet our life savings on each game. He gets so upset and he knows it’s crazy. We’ve had some bad years with the Broncos, so here’s hoping hubs gets to enjoy a game or two this season!

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      1. Things could be worse. You could be a Boston fan lately. Pats, Sox, now the Bruins…take your pick, lol.

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  3. Thanks for this post, Kathy. I feel like I’m constantly learning things about myself, and the way I’ve viewed myself over the years has shifted. I’m still working on self-kindness…

    P.S. I wish I had more secret talents!

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  4. I’m not so sure about secret talents, but I used to roller skate my skating skirt off! I skated competitively from the 80s to the late 90s, after I had my daughter. I have negative artistic ability otherwise, lol.

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  5. Kathy, I’ve never had delusions about my artistic ability. But if I had, my nephew kept me humble. When he was a toddler, he asked me to draw a horse for him. I did my best — truly. He looked at my drawing and said, “Aunt Vickie, that’s not a horse!” Ha, I couldn’t argue with that assessment.

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  6. I always wished I were more talented in the visual art department, as my mother was a fabulous artist. But at least I have a love of art, which I inherited from her!

    Secret talent…hmmmm. I can wiggle my ears! (And now that I’ve typed that, I see what a funny word that is–“wiggle.” Is that a secret talent, too?)

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      1. Okay, you got me curious, so I looked it up online:

        According to sources, “wriggle” comes from the Middle Low German word, “wrigglen,” meaning “to turn.” In the late 15th century, linguists translated the word to Old English “wrigian,” meaning “to turn or go forward.” That is an indication that “wriggle” has a rich history.

        Wiggle originates from the early 13th century Middle Dutch “wigelen,” meaning “to rock, wag, or move back and forth.” Its first recorded application was as a noun for “rapid movements in alternating directions” back in 1816.

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  7. I think I’m constantly learning things about myself, especially after I hit my 60s. I think it’s because I—and like you seem to be—am a “Yes, and” kinda gal. There’s not much I won’t try. But it is funny, I’m reticent to go to one of those “Paint and Sip” places because I’ll find out just how very little talent I have for painting. Bob Ross made it seem so easy! I’ll be crushed if I can’t make happy little trees!

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  12. I graduated from the University of Texas with a Bachelor of Fine Arts. My problem is that I am not dedicated enough. I love it all, so I flit from one to another. My forte was drawing and somewhat painting. I made my own clothes and made many things for gifts from robes, to aprons and hot pads and I made and sold jewelry and stiplings (ink drawings with dots) that I did. I did crewel needlework, crocheted, embroidered, made quilt squares using cloth that I made clothes from, made ceramics, dabbled in photography, and so on. I was good, but not that good and would lose interest and go on to the next thing. I figured I would do it when I retired, but other interests got in the way. Oh well. I taught art in junior high and high school, so would get burned out on doing my own thing after helping them all day. Bad thing about Bob Ross’s painting is that they all looked alike if you did it just like him. Well, it was fun while it lasted. I would love to write a book like you all and I also taught English, and punctuation is a big deal with me along with spelling, but my wordage was always too purple prosed. So, I envy you all. I just read your books and dream.

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  13. Every once in a while I do one of those paint nite deals. I always go alone where no one knows me and I absolutely love it. No wine because I take the lessons Very Seriously. My hubby kindly lets me hangs my…art… around the house. I am especially talented, I’ve discovered, at creating snow effects against pine trees and rustic red barns. I just throw the paint around with glee. One instructor told me my paintings are very…painterly. I’m going to take that as a compliment, lol.

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  14. Kathleen and Lisa, Thanks for the encouragement. I did good stuff and had fun, but I am going to 75 this year and I love my slowed down life. Though I still want to write. But instead, I will read, read, read. Thank you all.

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  15. Here’s another perspective: sounds like you are being too hard on yourself. I’m hearing disappointment that your first effort didn’t look like a museum piece. Beating yourself up will kill your creativity.

    I have had horrible experiences with professional art teachers who told me I had no talent. But I started taking quilting classes for the friendship, and I’ve become a good quilter with time. I make lots of quilts for charity and they don’t care if my seams aren’t straight, but I get peaceful time relaxing in the flow.

    The Artists Way by Julia Cameron is the classic book for opening your heart to creativity. YouTube has videos on scrapbooking, jewelry making, collage, and Zentangle, so maybe you need to experiment with a different craft instead of painting.

    As a beginning writer, it’s hard for me to keep writing when my work is so far from being published. But my experience with quilting says to keep going to classes and practicing. How did you get past this block to become a published author?

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  17. That is great perspective, Betsy. I appreciate the kind words and encouragement–and the recommendation. ❤️

    You’re right about the power of perseverance. I kept writing, and I hope you do, too! I figured everything was part of forward movement, which is advice I should apply to art!

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