The world still has a
place for exceptionalism; the young person’s first job is to recognize his own
unique gifts.
 |
| Full Stop, by Carol L. Douglas |
I have a friend who has a warm, light, perfectly-feminine
speaking voice. However, she sings with the basses in her church. There are
women who have naturally deep voices; they’re contraltos. I express my skepticism
that she is one. The true contralto voice is a matter of where the timbre and
power lie, not what notes the untrained voice finds comfortable.
Recently, she spent a Sunday evening with her Amish
neighbors, singing. People called out hymns and then were expected to lead their
selections. “Croaking” was the word she used to describe her star turn. That, I
tell her, is because she’s not singing in her true voice.
It’s a great metaphor for doing the wrong thing and
expecting good results. As long as she sings in the bottom of her range, she’s
going to sound like a strangled frog.
 |
| Little Giant, Carol L. Douglas, courtesy Camden Falls Gallery |
We’re very blessed to live in the time and place we do. My
mother, the daughter of immigrants, once said, “I never had time for
self-actualization.” She wasn’t kidding. She worked like a dray-horse from her
sixteenth birthday on. It’s no surprise that I was discouraged from going to
art school. To children of the Depression, that seemed very flighty.
Young people often ask, “How did you become an artist?” I
was one of those kids born with a pencil in my hand, but that wasn’t enough. I
was painting in oils before I reached my teens (thanks to my father) but that
wasn’t enough, either. I worked in other fields for several decades, drawing or
painting in my few private moments. It wasn’t until my fourth kid was born that
I had the courage to step into my calling.
 |
| Headlamps, Carol L. Douglas |
It wasn’t my epiphany at all. My husband had a far clearer understanding
of how I was “singing bass” when I’m a natural soprano. He pushed me in the
direction of painting, and then supported me when I flitted off to New York
City and the Art
Students League to learn to do it properly.
Do I regret those years doing other work? Not hardly. For
one thing, that’s how I learned the craft of writing. Working a day job also put
me firmly on the side of the doers rather than the dreamers. That profoundly
shaped my view of art.
 |
| American Eagle in Drydock, courtesy of Camden Falls Gallery. |
Young people ask these questions because they’re struggling
to figure out their own places in the world. They’re
often trying to figure out how to make a living off the beaten path. I can
only tell them my own story and then counsel them to dig down to their primary
gifts—the ability to teach, to tell stories, to think clearly, to lead, to work
with their hands, to serve, or to create. The world still has many places for
unique and exceptional people; their problem is to understand their own gifts
and how to use them in the service of others.
I’ve got one more
workshop available this summer. Join me for Sea and Sky at
Schoodic, August 5-10. We’re strictly limited to twelve, but there are
still seats open.
