ok - i'm up....and ready for bed. i got a call from a woman i met (amazingly) through my mother. all i heard about for months before i met her was "debbie this and debbie that." i joked that mom loved her better...that she was mom's favorite daughter. and it seemed like everything i did - yup - debbie did. i kayak. oh - debbie has 2 kayaks. and a jeep. and fill-in-the-blank. so i finally met debbie - on mom's birthday. she's wonderful, of course. and we do share a lot of interests. and she called tonight to ask if i would be a teammate with her in a wearable art competition...she would provide the sewing knowledge and i would provide the creativity. i don't do well in team type things...i'm not real good at the part where you have to sometimes put your brilliant (to you) idea aside and let the other person's be realized. which explains my marriage. anyway, i told her i'd assist but would not be a teammate. and we agreed on that. she added that she hesitated asking me because of what i "went through on the mannequin project." and i had to laugh. finally. having just been able to verbalize what "i went through," i was able to deal with it. what was "it?" the project brought to the surface every fear and insecurity i ever had lurking inside me about my artistic talent, my authenticity as an artist, my right to claim the title of artist, and a bunch of other useful emotions...things i thought i'd left by the wayside many years ago. add into the mix that i started my piece over no less than 3 times, with each rendition reinforcing the fact that i was not All That And A Bag Of Chips, well, you had a recipe for self uncertainty that would shake a WWE wrestler. by the time i left for Squam, the only way out that i could see, was to drop out of the whole show. and i left my home with the intention that i would tell swirly that i was Out...would not be in the show. so i avoided her for that week, still not wanting to drop out, but not willing to face the demons. but also knowing that it was a gift - and that it was now, or later. so i punched my way through. for weeks before that, i couldn't even look at the mannequin...covered her with a sheet finally, just so i could walk into my studio and not have to see her mocking me with headless eyes. finally, when the clock was ticking down to 1 option (overnight air shipping), i went to work. i blasted the demons, i listened to music louder than the voices telling me i was a shame, i got up early and worked through exhaustion. i called in sick, and worked again. and harder and longer and with more sweet spirit than i'd felt towards her in some time. or myself for that matter. and i finished. and in the finishing learned quite a lot about myself, and my style of work, and working, and felt big inside. and happy. really really happy. and i sent her across the country, wrapped in miles of bubblewrap (sorry Anne) and piles of packaging. and was proud of myself. and of her. because we symbolize one another. she will stand in the same room with 19 others, all crafted by artists that i have come to admire enormously. she will stand for me, as i once again, in my soul, claim my square-footage as Artist. and i feel different now, having made it through to the other side of this epiphany...i feel older & wiser. stronger. more unshakable in my "self-ness." I Am An Artist. still. all thanks to some molded plastic, and an amazing woman named Anne Carmack. L.