Perfectly Unskilled

Creativity runs in my family. My brother plays the drums, my mother plays the piano, my father is a successful artist. As for me, I am still struggling to find that creative spark. It seems everyone has a natural talent that oozes from them effortlessly. I feel as though my creativity may have been put on back order.

My mother bought me a keyboard when I was younger in hopes I may have the same natural talent for the keys as she had. She was patient and encouraging, It was hard though. My tiny stubby hands always encouraged the notes out in a progression that was just always a little off. A sound that made your shoulders tense and your eye twitch a little. My mother and I would laugh at the attempts, she would play for me, I'd try and we'd laugh again. Try as I may, piano was not for me.

I moved onto drums, my brother was a natural. He made it look so effortless. My brother and I, six years apart, teaching his kid sister a skill wasn't a desirable concept. We fought, we laughed, we fought... we fought. It wasn't long before I gave up on the drums, my brother lacked my mothers patience, as did the neighbours.

Guitar was my next venture. Not having anyone within close proximity that played, I decided to put my budding creativity into the hands of a professional. For months my tiny hands plucked a monotone tune until the tips of my fingers were blue. Chords never sounded right, music was hard to read. I was determined though and did eventually learn Wonderwall, if not perfectly, it was legible enough. That was until I tried to sing along with the words, it was no longer legible. It was during my guitar venture I decided maybe singing would be a better idea, I didn't need long fingers for that.

I would lay in bed of a night dreaming of being on a stage, looking out into a dark sea of people as I was lit up in the spotlight belting my lungs out, people chanting my name demanding an encore. Singing made swell inside like nothing else I had experienced. I wasn't a natural but if Ed Sheeran can be awful and end up well, Ed Sheeran, than why couldn't I? A year and a half and three teachers later I cant lie to you, I had improved. I had actually built the confidence to do a few performances with friends. But it's still something I'd prefer to do in my room alone. No one is getting around shouting praises about my Mariah Carey voice and I feel as though after almost two years of lessons how much more improvement can a person see? I haven't quiet hung up my microphone just yet, but I'm close.

Art was always difficult for me. Yes I know, I know, art is subjective. There is beauty in all. Just look at Picasso, he didn't earn extra points for painting a perfectly executed face. But there is a difference between art and ART. It's hard when I believe art is not something that can truly be taught. My father gave me some pointers, it's hard to learn from someone who once got disqualified from an art competition for submitting a photo when in fact it was actually a painting. Yeah, he's that good. My art was always obscure at best. My father and I would have a lot of fun in the shed with the spray gun or the paint brushes, laughing at my wonky eyes I would paint, saying maybe I would be the next Picasso. All jokes aside, art never stuck.

Time rolled on and I kept starting things and giving up again. Every few months it would be something new. Something I would inevitably deem myself not good enough at and move on. Something happened a while ago though that I've been building up to share with you all. A something called Covid-19. You see being stuck inside made us all a bit crazy. It made us look to things that would calm our minds and hearts as the world was going crazy outside. I would read books, a lot of books. But it made me revisit a few things and I want to share what I learned from what I would call my failed ventures. I learned that everything taught me something that I wasn't trying to learn.

Piano taught me that love and encouragement is important when dealing with others, it taught me that spending time with my mother was the real treasure there, not the musical skill. Drums taught me that even though you may argue a lot, it doesn't mean you can't still find joy in what you're doing, overcome the frustration and push forward. Guitar taught me to put trust in myself and work hard, it taught me that even a small achievement can feel so good. Singing taught me that fear doesn't have to stop you, that even if you're not the best, you can still be supported. Art taught me that time with my father having fun with the freedom of paint felt good, even if I wasn't winning competitions. Overall though, I have since learned that having natural talent and being good at a skill isn't what it's all about.

What I'm trying to say is, pick up that guitar, that paintbrush, those drumsticks. Laugh at yourself, laugh with friends. If it feels good, DO IT. Don't let trying to be the best stop you from finding joy. I'm not saying don't work hard, just don't get caught up in perfection, because perfection sometimes comes from imperfection and that's what makes everything we find joy in so beautiful.