In The Beginning

The year is wrong in the first, it was 2013, one of a batch I did before I had my son. 
The latest was finished a few days ago, for a very dear friend.

Many stories start with "in the beginning" or "once upon a time" or "a long time ago in a land far far away."  It doesn't much matter what the story is about because that introduction sets the scene for something ordinary that becomes something great.  If we were telling an epic tale about art or craft, it would probably begin with a small child living in a humble cottage, standing at the knee of a master craftsman, and then growing in beauty and skill over the years.  Some of us were that child, learning our art from the time we could walk.  Some of us come to art later in life.  No matter the year of life, there is always that point where you decide to begin.

A long time ago, before we came to the world of the SCA, I was a decent artist.  I practiced a lot, dedicated myself to pencil and paint, learned, taught others, and did a fair job of living the life of a young working artist.  Things happened; adventures can be dark and life changing, and I turned away from that for many years - living as a seamstress in a time not so long ago.  More adventures and sadness, and life circled around again, and I found myself sitting at a table with paper under one hand and a brush in another.  It had been a long, long time.  I made blanks for a while, just painting the borders for others to fill in.  Somewhere in that second beginning, I became very, very ill and my recovery took a while - and is ongoing in many ways.

Trying new things became an important part of healing.  Calligraphy had always terrified me.  Not only did I not understand the pen/nib/hand relationship, but it was too much like math.  I had neat handwriting, but the idea of magically transforming that into art was hugely intimidating.  Through a trick of bad weather, I still have my first calligraphy attempt for the SCA.  I like the piece, and like a first yarn, or a first weaving, I have kept it as a reminder of where I began.  I can see the road stretching before me, but not where it leads or if it ends.  Right now it is the journey that matters most.  I have good and bad hand days, and there will always be more to learn.

While that is a very short and highly edited version of my story, the moral is this: to be great at something eventually, you must begin.