In a recent post about process I asked:
Am I just more of a verbal person than a visual one?
My career has dealt with the written word: translating, editing, writing, researching — things that were always encouraged, that came naturally without a lot of struggle. Certainly no one ever urged me to go to art school, nor did I think of it for myself.
My birth family placed great store on social activism, awareness of issues and politics. Although with a different perspective, so does Grandpa X, who was watching the news on TV when we first met.
My visual approach to life has made me look like a total airhead on a number of occasions.
When I was out with my father, I saw a line of clothes drying, stretched along a roof line between two chimneys. To me this was a very impressive image in itself, my father just said “How difficult it must be to raise children in those circumstances.”
Grandpa X and I were watching CNN one day and an interview with a turbaned Iraqi cleric came on. I immediately blurted out “I’ve already seen this the other day, I remember that wall!” (The wall in question was worn stucco with amazing weathering on it.)
But now I’m resolved not to feel inadequate because of this tendency. It’s just who I am, and really not to be taken as proof that I’m someone that doesn’t give a bleep.