Does it ever get old?

Man, life has been busy. Which I guess is a good thing, right? Of course that means that when the online illustration directory That's My Folio gave me a heads up that I would be one of the "Featured Artists" on their homepage, I put off writing a post for it until the last possible minute.

In the end, I wrote this. I don't know what possessed me to write it, really, but I kinda  like how it turned out, so I thought I'd repost it here.

. . . . .

How long have I been doing this?

I don't mean being an illustrator or graphic designer. I mean, how long have I been drawing?

Well, considering my current age, and the age around which I probably first put crayon to paper (or wall, as the case may be), around 35 years. That's a long time, really. For anything. My dad retired from working as an electronic engineer after something close that amount of time, and never looked back.

But me? I'm not even close to being done. I have more ideas for projects and experiments than I have time to tackle. And anytime I start to feel even the slightest bit bored, I see someone else's brilliant work, and suddenly, I fall head over heels in love with art all over again.

Granted, I haven't drawn exactly the same thing all these years. From my earliest memory through middle school, I wanted nothing more than to draw a comic strip. You know, the kind you used to read in the newspaper back when people actually read newspapers. I loved the medium, and studied everything about it. I was convinced, even at the early age, that I was destined to be a cartoonist.

Obviously, that changed over time. I continued drawing comic strips through high school and into college for my school paper, but since then, not one. Instead, I've persued all kinds of other illustrative endeavors, and even fell in love with graphic design during my university years. And I experimented with everything: acrylic paint, colored pencils, pastels, watercolor. I enjoyed all of them, but it wasn't until I took a chance and purchased some scratch board from my local art supply store on a whum that I really hit my stride.

But even now, the more I work in the computer, the more interested I become in other styles. And I've loved every minute of it. Even with the projects that crashed and burned, the stuff sitting in storage that no one will ever see—I loved it. Maybe not the result, but the process. I don't just love art, I love being an artist. I'm not concerned with whether I succeed or fail; I'm only intersted in the sublime act of creating. It makes me happier than probably any one human being has a right to be.

So, if anyone were to ask me, does it ever get old? I'd say, No. And I would imagine that, as long as I keep drawing, I won't either.