RobArt Penguin

Before I was a writer, I was a painter. My first serious attempt was a painting I did when I was nine. I used oil paint straight out of the tube, with no color mixing or use of additives like linseed oil. I painted directly on white canvas. The work was primitive, but with the help of my Grandfather I learned to paint. Friends and family have always encouraged me to exhibit my work. My first attempt to display my paintings began with participating in local art shows in the 1990’s. I was terrified filling out my first application. Voices in my head told me I was an idiot and that my work was garbage, but I went forward anyway. After a few seasons, attending these shows became old hat. When my kids were little, I used to make clay figures with them, using bakeable polymer clay. My wife said I show try displaying my wares at shows. Again, I hesitated because of extreme fear around being public, and a lack of confidence in my work or myself. After ten years of shows, the process became routine. I overcome many barriers, mostly ones that were self-imposed.

Throughout this time, I have written. It took success in legal writing to give me the confidence to believe in my creative writing. I have a huge volume of material, but struggle to publish it beyond my family and a few friends. The idea that my work would be out there terrifies me and the old dark shadows in my head rise again. I get encouragement and advice, about moving ahead despite my fears. Nothing I hear sinks in. In fact, I get frustrated that the people who love me don’t get how hard it is for me to open this part of me to the outside. Of course, it takes courage to reach out, and many, if not most, writers, maybe all artists, go through this struggle, but my struggle is paralyzing. Of course, one could say, if it is that bad, don’t do it. Afterall, JD Salinger stopped publishing and lived in his bunker while he kept writing. And that is the rub, I want to take the next step. I want to beat my fear.

This is where I think my struggle is related to my own history, a survivor of sexual and physical assault. Survival meant hiding. Hiding was safety. The feelings run deep. They’re primal. I break many rules by discussing this issue. Part of writing a blog is my attempt to break free of the legacy. This is my individual imprint, an artist who is a survivor. My journey has proved I can break barriers, so I will keep moving … forward.