I recently had an email conversation with a stranger from Craig’s List. She said she was looking for female friends, 420 friendly. And she said she was an artist.
I told her I used art for therapy, but that I wouldn’t consider myself an artist.
She said to be an artist, you just had to do it. Make art.
I told her that I sing, too, but that doesn’t make me a singer.
Drop mic. Boom! I win.
I never heard from her again. But if I had wanted to win her side of the argument, I would have said:
Art is in the eye of the beholder. If the viewer thinks it’s art, then it’s art. One person will view graffiti as art, and another will see only vandalism. Some see art in nature, while others see only pollen, bugs, and dirt.
I suppose we’re all artists, because art is whatever you want it to be.
Two young Mormons knocked on my door this afternoon. (No, this is not the beginning of a joke. This really happened.) I thought I’d be nice and not answer. The last time I talked to two traveling Mormons, I held them up for like 10 minutes. I finally asked them, where are all the women? Come back when I can talk to a female Mormon. I’ve done my good deed for the day.