I’m not an artist

Yes, I paint.
And yes, I write, and I knit, and I create adorable rubber stamps.
It is true that I will not allow myself to be stagnate
As if my heart urges me to continue my creation.

However, I shall not call myself an artist, nor a writer, nor a painter.
Oh, how these titles burn me with shame.
It is a cross too heavy for me to carry, a crown that does not fit.
This is not humbleness, for there is no necessity to be humble if I
do not have the talent that deserves to be bragged about.
Simply look back in the history, or around, in a gallery.
There are astounding creations:
ideas that no one could match; techniques that no one shall compete.
There are masters, geniuses, with whom the only thing I could match is dedication
(if even that.)

And myself? Yes, I paint, I write, I knit, and I create adorable rubber stamps.
But an artist? No, thank you.
I appreciate the appreciation.

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3 thoughts on “I’m not an artist

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