Everyone starts somewhere, but some of us start later than others.
There are a few hard realities of learning a new craft after a certain age. Heck, like almost anything there is a ticking clock for greatness. Me picking away at the piano at nearly fifty is almost certainly not going to open up a spot at The Juilliard School any more than my dabbling in urban sketching this late in life it going to give me the time and energy to pursue a scholarship at Emily Carr University.
The reality is that after certain doors in life, close most of the world will almost certainly regard your pursuits of artistic and creative skill as little more than a retirement hobby.
And maybe that’s fair.
…but it also isn’t.
Art, fiction, music, all of it is as much about translating life experience into something outside of our memories. Fine whiskeys are aged to make them better, so why not artists, too?
I am on the fringes of an age category transition myself, looking at much of middle age as something I’ve been through and starting to think about not just age, but the general idea of starting on a creative path as a late entrant.
I got into watercolour when I was older than my first instructor.
I took up the violin at forty.
I didn’t start seriously trying to play the piano until just a year ago.
And something tells me that my flailing sense of urgency about aging might be a wee bit overblown.
Under the category of Late & Ready I’ll be writing more on this topic as the months wear on.