in the midst of a reasonably rememberable and arguably remarkable recent posting i admitted that my decisions lack critical thinking and are often questionable. you may recall me writing how a buddy likened my decision-making process to a squirrel crossing a busy street. so it might come as no surprise to learn that, in spite of being spectacularly colour-blind and unable to draw a straight line to save my life, i've decided to try painting wonderful and wondrous works of art.
i'm obviously aware how ridiculous that might seem and how un-wondrous the paintings almost certainly will turn out to be. but i'm circumventing all possible criticism by calling myself a folk artist. folk art is defined as: 'art originating among the common people of a nation or region and usually reflecting their traditional culture, especially everyday or festive items produced and decorated by unschooled artists.' loosely translated, that means it's art created by folk who are often the result of multi-generational inbreeding and, while strangely decorative, their art's mostly terrible, even imbecilic. a folk artist is like a writer who never uses capital letters pays little attention to punctuation or even grammar but thinks himself a fabulous author. the truth is i absolutely adore folk art, always have.
i once drove eight-hundred and forty-four kilometres just to attend an auction devoted solely to folk art. during the preview i jotted down several pieces i might be into bidding on and, as the auction progressed, i won a couple of small decoys for thirty dollars each, a large one for forty-five and a nice madonna carving for fifty-five dollars. so i went to the back room to grab one of the cardboard boxes and, as i re-entered the hall, i saw that a carving i particularly liked was being auctioned off. it was a charming little carving of a farmer being butted from behind by a goat. i heard the auctioneer calling: "fifty, fifty, i got forty-five, who'll give me fifty?" of course i immediately put up my hand. i was happy to offer fifty bucks for it. and then the auctioneer called out: "fifty-thousand, fifty-thousand, i've got fifty, fifty, who'll give me fifty-five?" well, that was probably the longest half-minute of my life until a tall gentleman standing at the back raised his hand. mercifully i lost that one, and the lady next to me whispered: "you're a real professional aye?" i just nodded coyly while secretly wondering if i had brought a change of underwear.
anyway, reading recently regarding the life of grandma moses, who began her illustrious career at the age of seventy-six, i was inspired to give painting a try. most people believe inspiration's a fantastic happening. for me, that's not so clear. the last few times i've felt inspired, filled with an overwhelming rush of creativity, i lost friends. i lost a few following each article i was inspired to write during last winter's stupid reprehensible truckers' convoy protest. i lost a bunch after being swept up by an overwhelming inspiration to write a rather graphic memoire. and i'm often inspired by jokes only i find funny. somebody recently asked what my pronoun is and i responded by saying i haven't checked my pronoun for over a decade, not sure if it even works anymore. i thought that was hilarious while them and they walked away shaking their heads.
having said all that, i must add that it hasn't always been the case. many many years ago, i was utterly inspired after hearing about a way to peace, well-being and self-knowledge. and, although the self-knowledge part's certainly a never-ending enquiry, meditation's only ever been a gateway to the greatest of friendships. so, what the heck, i'll give this art thing a try.