Better late than never

I was a mediocre artist in college. I can admit that. Maybe I was an art major at the wrong time. The Seventies was all about do-it-yourself-discover-the process and very anti-technique. I floundered. I needed concrete instruction and exercises and I needed a gentle, coaxing method. I was too insecure, too sensitive. The tendency was towards the abstract and the art-as-therapy approach. If I wasn't exorcising my demons on canvas I was uninteresting and dismissed. (Still, a special shout out to my favorite art professor, Terry Morrow, who was never dismissive). C'est la vie. That milk has been spilt. Those tears have been wiped. My life turned out just fine anyway. My back up major, Dance, became my prime focus for over 30 years. Now I'm back at the art without anyone breathing down my neck. It's just me breathing down my own neck. If I don't like it, I throw it away. Or gesso over it. Or cut it up into tiny pieces and think: hey, there's a collage in there somewhere. Who knew? Recycle, renew.
So, it's the letter B today is it? Be all that you can Be. To Be or Not to Be. Being and Doing. Faith and Works. Do Be Do Be Do.