Would that I had the blithe wit and urbane persona of a Noël Coward, but alas, I operate on a lower and more plebeian plane. And for those who are keeping score, yes, I am a big chicken, if that’s what you were reading in today’s title. Still and all, I think of myself as being less than hideously fearful when it comes to self-exposure as an artist.
Though the upshot of all this may be that my audiences become unwitting consumers of drivel and bilge at least part of the time, I also remind myself that there is some credible evidence, historically speaking, that the greatest masters of the many forms of art are represented in the present age only by those portions of their respective oeuvres that they or others chose to retain. Long have I wished that I might gain access to, if you will, the Rubbish Bins of the Old Masters to see something more accurately representing the whole of the bodies of work that led to the known and treasured glories. So here I am, letting all and sundry look into the underwear drawer of my art closet, so to speak. After all, I think that I’m merely admitting to what my betters may have left to the imagination.
So I’ll keep showing off process and behind-the-curtain action from time to time, knowing as I do that not only are folk wonderfully gracious and patient with me even when critiquing but also , and more importantly, that I appreciate those of my fellow artists who are willing to share the same access to their gifts with me. We all have our weaknesses. But when it comes to showing off my work, I’m no coward.
Art-Colored Glasses
Original poetry, essays, artworks, photographs & musings on whatever moves me…
Art-Colored Glasses 
Eve and I recently watched the six-hour series on Brahms by Robert Greenberg,
http://www.thegreatcourses.com/tgc/courses/course_detail.aspx?cid=757
and one of the things we learned is that Brahms destroyed everything except what he considered his best work. People today, even people who are very adept at music, would probably find many of those destroyed works wonderful, but Brahms wouldn’t have it.
Along similar lines, Bizet didn’t want to have his youthful Symphony in C performed, but in this case the work survived and became a standard part of the Classical repertoire:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Symphony_in_C_%28Bizet%29
None of us are immune to wishing to hide the evidence of our less successful endeavors, which is rather remarkably silly when it comes right down to realizing that the mistakes made along the way are essential to growth and progress. Not to mention that sometimes the Happy Mistake leads to the best outcomes of all! I will certainly have fun exploring the links you shared, now. Thanks!
As much as our being allowed exposure to the most self-preferred of certain works of the masters, no one, nobody or soul is capable of writing, painting or sculpting all perfect masterpieces without at least occasional, at the worst failures or, at best, mediocrity. This being the reason Mark Twain refused to write a daily news column. Humble personal experience confirms. The muse is a fickle little beast…
The muse is just plain a RARE beast! Good thing some of us lucky-duckies have our Lindy Lees urging us ever onward or we’d give up waiting on a stump for La Muse to pop by and bonk us on the head with her magic wand. 😀 xoxo