Topic: Attitude

  • Seek & Find

    “Seek & Find” by Jason Kotecki. 20 x 20. Oil on canvas.
    Original is available. 🟢 Shop this art!

    My wife has a remarkable superpower for finding hearts in nature, hiding in clouds, flowers, and even her sourdough bread.

    One day, we walked along a pier in Lake Michigan. We talked about our business, kids, and future. We lingered at the end of the pier, then walked back, resuming our conversation. Kim casually mentioned seeing fifteen hearts during our walk.

    I had seen exactly none.

    I marveled at her talent.

    But is there such a thing as talent for seeing hearts in nature? I’m not so sure. It’s not like having a beautiful singing voice, exceptional sprinting speed, or a penchant for math.

    Kim has a knack for spotting hearts because she spends a lot of time looking for them. 

    What seems magical to others is often the result of lots of practice.

    I once wrote a book about seeing. In it, I talked about storms, the metaphorical kind that blow through our lives. I also wrote about one of our most underrated superpowers: the ability to choose what we look for in the midst of those storms. 

    Yes, the storms will come. Scary, devastating, faith-shaking storms. They are a given, right up there with death and taxes and missing socks.

    But those who see the silver linings are usually the ones looking for them.

    It’s not a talent; it’s a practice.

    The more you practice, the better you get.

    This is true with finding hearts in nature as it is with anything.

    So, will this year be worse than last year? Or will it be your best year ever?

    Here’s the secret: You don’t have to wait to find out.

    The trap is letting external circumstances dictate our answers:  the news headlines, the outrage du jour on social media, the ups and downs of life. 

    It’s hard to view a year of hardship as anything but negative. However, a decade might offer perspective, transforming it into a valuable gift. A little time and practice might turn up a whole host of hidden blessings.

    I’m not suggesting you pretend that the tough or terrible moments don’t suck. Being sad, mad, or angry is part of the human experience. We don’t have to bury those emotions under some false blanket of positivity. 

    Just remember that storms are part of life. The best year isn’t one without failure, conflict, tragedy, or loss.

    Kim took the photo that inspired this painting. She saw a heart in the sky near the lighthouse. I enhanced it slightly and added dozens more. I can’t count them all, and you might find some I didn’t add.

    That is how it is with cloud watching and wonderhunting and the counting of blessings. 

    The more you practice, the more you’ll see.

    Those who seek shall find.

    ☕ How would you assess your ability to spot the “hearts” in your life? What’s one way you could practice getting better?

  • Beyond the Bathtub

    “Beyond the Bathtub” by Jason Kotecki. 20 x 20. Oil on canvas.
    Original is available 🟢 Shop this art!

    I could have stayed in the bathtub.

    Way back when, after completing my schooling and earning a degree, the safe path was waiting for me. A decent job in my hometown. It wasn’t particularly exciting, but it was close enough to what I went to school for that I could rationalize it as making sense. I could have taken the job, gotten married, bought a house, and started collecting benefits.

    It was tempting, and by most standards, the smart thing to do. The only problem is that I knew exactly what life in the bathtub would look like for the rest of my life.

    I may have been shy and quiet, but I grew up observing people who decided to stay in the bathtub. Whether they rationalized it as a smart choice or insisted they didn’t have any others, I could always sense a certain sadness, simmering just below the surface. 

    Life outside the bathtub is fraught.

    The ocean is vast. The edges disappear as the shoreline fades from view. The waves toss us around until we’re seasick. At times it feels like we’ll drown—or be swallowed by something much bigger than ourselves. The current carries us in directions we never would have chosen. It’s disorienting. Terrifying. Unpredictable.

    Of course we prefer to remain in an environment we can control! 

    The problem is that it’s not much of a life. 

    The bathtub is safe, controlled, and predictable. But it’s also small. Constricting. Eventually the what-ifs become impossible to ignore. What’s outside these walls? What am I truly capable of? Where might I go if I ventured beyond the edge of what I can see?

    I was the kid my relatives called a scaredy-cat. Honestly, not much has changed. I’ve never become especially brave or outgoing.

    I just knew there was life beyond the bathtub.

    Although I’m just a tiny rubber duck, I sensed I was made for a bigger shore, farther away than I could get to on my own.

    So I put my trust in the One who made the water, the waves, and the wind.

    That choice came with no certainty, no safety, and no benefits package. There were seasons when I felt lost at sea. Driftless. Doubtful. Overwhelmed. Afraid.

    You know what? I still feel that way sometimes. There are always temptations to pull into a safe harbor somewhere and settle down. To quit while I’m ahead.

    But I can’t go back now.

    Since giving my life to the Creator of the ocean, I’ve seen things, accomplished things, and experienced things I never would have known had I stayed in the bathtub. I’ve been swept up in an adventure that’s been wonderful, beautiful, and breathtaking.

    The decision isn’t to become adventurous.

    The decision is to leave the bathtub.

    Everything else follows.

    We’re destined for a life beyond the bathtub. 

    Of course it isn’t safe. But it is good.

    Is it time for you to experience what life is like beyond the bathtub?

    process

  • One of One

    “One of One” by Jason Kotecki. 20 x 20. Oil on canvas.
    Original is available 🟢 Shop this art!

    When I was in art school in the late nineties, the goth look was in. A significant segment of art kids wore all-black clothing, Doc Martens boots, and fingernails painted with dark colors. I found it fascinating to observe that the ones intent on bucking the system, sticking it to the man, and expressing their individuality all looked…exactly the same.

    It’s scary to stand out.

    We learn this at a young age, when simply being our weird, unique selves can lead to us being shamed and ostracised at recess, on the school bus, or even across the dinner table by a sibling or parent.

    And so, much of life is a careful effort to blend in.

    Just look at the cars we drive, most of which are either black, white, or some combination of the two.

    Or how we take fashion cues from tastemakers and trendsetters because getting caught wearing something out of style is akin to death.

    We must be careful to curate what we say in public for fear of being cancelled.

    In the case of my art school companions, we even blend together in our rebellion.

    Now, some would explain this as an evolutionary feature, not a bug. There’s safety in numbers, after all. We’ve learned to blend in because there’s danger in straying too far from the herd.

    The thing is, we’re not here to sink to our base animal instincts. We were created for a higher purpose. We were made for greatness.

    We are born originals. The problem, as St. Carlo Acutis observed, is that most of us die as photocopies.

    As an artist, I sell prints of my work. Some of them are timed releases, some are limited editions, and some are open editions (available all the time). 

    I sell a lot of them, but they’re all really just fancy photocopies. 

    And none are worth as much as the original. A print sells for less than a hundred dollars. The original can sell for thousands.

    Ask anyone who has purchased one of my original paintings, where you can see the texture of the canvas, feel the brushstrokes with your fingers, and observe the luminosity that emanates from dozens of thin layers of oil paint, and they’ll confirm: Nothing beats an original.

    Sadly, too often we settle for being photocopies.

    It’s been said that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

    Maybe if someone else is imitating us. 

    But if it is we who are doing the imitating, then imitation is the sincerest form of boring.

    It is good to learn from those who came before us. It’s possible to find a measure of success by imitating someone else. 

    But the best you’ll ever be is a second-rate version of them.

    This is not a call to stand out for the sake of standing out, or to pretend to be something you’re not. It’s about having the courage to be more of who you are. It’s a reminder that safety should not be our highest virtue. 

    You are free to opt for the safe path. Most people do.

    But you will not be able to escape the gnawing sense of dissatisfaction, the quiet desperation, the ever-present sense in your soul that there’s more to life, and this ain’t it.

    The reason I made the hero in this painting red was because of the lesson I learned from red shoes. After years of wearing safe, plain, predictable shoes, I started pining for red ones. The people I saw wearing red shoes always seemed to be so brave and adventurous, somehow getting more out of life. I wanted that, but I was afraid. I was afraid of standing out too much, but mostly I was afraid that I’d be found out as a fraud.

    Adultitis tried convincing me that I wasn’t one of those “red shoe people.” I wasn’t fun enough, brave enough, or free enough. 

    Eventually, I stood up to Adultitis and got the red shoes. The fears ended up being empty threats. I’ve worn red shoes on stage for every speaking engagement for about two decades now. I love ’em. They make me feel more fun, confident, and free, like a guy who decided it didn’t matter what other people think. 

    Of course, red shoes are not the secret to defeating Adultitis.

    Being brave is.

    What are your red shoes? There is probably something in your life you’ve always (but probably secretly) wanted to own, do, or be, that you’ve talked yourself out of. Maybe Adultitis sold you on the idea that you’re just not “that type of person” and it would be safer to blend in.

    But maybe you actually are that type of person.

    Maybe the fear is a smokescreen keeping you from becoming all God created you to be.

    Maybe twenty seconds of embarrassing bravery will open the door to a new level of confidence and unimaginable opportunities.

    Maybe your example of standing out from the herd will be the spark that lights the way forward for someone else, giving them courage to be brave, too.

    “To be nobody-but-yourself—in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else—means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.”

    —E.E. Cummings

    Is any of this safe? Hell no. Of course not.

    But it’s the only way to feel alive.

  • We Can’t Let Winter Win

    “We Can’t Let Winter Win” by Jason Kotecki. 16 x 20. Oil on canvas.
    Original is available 🟢 Shop this art!

    One thing I love about the Midwest is the seasons. Real ones. Not like those they claim to have elsewhere, so-called “winters” with an occasional snow flurry and temperatures that sometimes flirt below forty.

    In Wisconsin, our seasons are pure, not pretenders. 

    I like that, because it allows me to fully embrace the beauty and lessons of each one. It’s a reflection of life, which has distinct seasons, no matter where we live.  

    If we’re honest, we’d prefer life to be one long, glorious summer, filled with sunshine and popsicles. But no. There are seasons of autumn, times for slowing down and saying goodbyes. And there are long winters of loneliness, where life feels frozen solid, and hope gets buried under a blanket of snow. 

    Of course, spring always follows, but sometimes it seems to have overslept.

    In Wisconsin, there is always a point when you’re pretty sure winter is over. 

    Live here long enough, and you realize it’s not. 

    There’s always one last gasp. One final snowstorm. One more cold snap that steals spring away, just as you were about to elope together on your way to summer.

    That might be the most deflating, difficult part of winter: The moment when it appears it will never end, and you don’t know how much more you can take.

    Life feels like that sometimes, when it seems like winter’s gonna win. 

    Winter wins when it convinces us that nothing will ever change.

    Winter wins when we let disappointment over unmet expectations turn into resentment.

    Winter wins when we allow ourselves to be buried under a blanket of apathy.

    Winter wins when we decide to give up and let the hope within us flicker out.

    But it doesn’t have to get the final say.

    This painting is a reminder that we can’t let winter win.

    The 8-bit sunflower is reminiscent of a video game, because I think that’s a good way to think of it. When you’re in the middle of one of life’s winters, everything is heavy. Summer looks so far away. We see all the things that need to change for us to go from where we are to where we want to be, and it feels insurmountable. 

    Sometimes the answer to the darkness that weighs down on us is a little levity. Making a game out of it is a way to rise above the life-and-death seriousness of our situation. It takes us ever-so-slightly outside ourselves to give us perspective that is a little wider than the restricted, optionless way winter can feel sometimes.

    Part of what makes a game engaging and fun is that there is a challenge to it. But the key is for it to be a doable challenge. So instead of focusing on all the ways we are frozen in place and how many more days of winter are ahead, make a game out of finding even one tiny clue that spring is on its way. You don’t need to defeat the Final Boss and save the Princess; you just need to make it past this level. 

    Today.

    The game is this: Figure out how to win today.

    It doesn’t have to be big.

    It could be one five-minute prayer.

    It could be getting dinner on the table.

    It could be dumping the bottle of vodka down the drain.

    It might just be getting out of bed.

    Sometimes the win is just giving it one more day.

    I’ve experienced many winters, especially in the early days of building our business. I once got some advice from a business colleague I’ve never forgotten. He, too, was an entrepreneur and knew how discouraging it was to feel like you made one step forward only to take three steps back. He shared a simple policy he lived by. On those really hard days, the days when he didn’t think he could go any further, he promised himself he’d give it one more day. He gave himself permission to abandon ship after that, but not before he gave it one more day.

    Sure enough, the next day always brought some glint of hope, a new reason to believe. There was rarely any huge breakthrough that magically happened. Maybe it was a small sale. Maybe it was an encouraging word from a friend. Maybe it was just a good night’s sleep.  

    Just a baby step forward.

    We win when we find evidence that spring is on its way.

    We win when hope bursts through a blanket of apathy.

    We win when our resentment melts into acceptance.

    We win when our panic gives way to patience.

    We win when we bring light to someone else.

    We win when we give it one more day.

    Don’t let winter win.

    Keep holding on for spring.

  • Born For This

    “Born For This” by Jason Kotecki. 12 x 12. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    The Wright Brothers were the first to fly, but they weren’t the first to try.

    Not by a long shot.

    For more than fifty years, humans had been actively working on the problem (after thousands of years of dreaming about it). Many brave people tried for years in vain, often at the cost of their very lives. Most considered it impossible.

    But when the Wright Brothers succeeded, they became a match that lit the way forward.

    They shared the joy of flying with others. In his first public demonstrations in Europe, Wilbur would take a passenger into the air with him. The brothers also eagerly trained new pilots. Soon after their success, countless others followed, and in short order, aviation boomed across the world.

    After fifty years of collective failure, the work and the example of the brothers opened the floodgates. Orville himself lived to see aviation transformed by jet propulsion, the introduction of the rocket, and the breaking of the sound barrier in 1947. On July 20, 1969, when Neil Armstrong, another American born and raised in western Ohio, stepped onto the moon, he carried with him, in tribute to the Wright brothers, a small swatch of the muslin from a wing of their 1903 Flyer.

    It reminds me of another pioneer named Roger Bannister, who was the first to run a mile in less than four minutes. People said it couldn’t be done. Doctors suggested you could die in the process of even attempting it. And yet after Bannister proved it was possible, Australian John Landy did it himself just six weeks later.

    You can just do things.

    But sometimes we need someone to show us a something can be done for us to believe we can do it ourselves.

    One family Kim and I knew before having children was a match that sparked our own belief that we could travel with kids. Our daughter Lucy ended up on 34 flights before her first birthday.

    And all the homeschooling parents we encountered who had raised successful children doing amazing things in the world were matches that gave us the confidence that maybe would could, too.

    What if someone is waiting for you to be the example they need?

    You and me, we’re like matches.

    A match is not made to sit in a box, unlit, forever. It was designed to create a fire, but not one kept to itself.

    You were made with specific talents to achieve a specific purpose. Part of that purpose in life is to make a difference in the lives of others. And just like a match, you get one shot. You have to give it your all.

    Of course, it’s scary!

    You have the option to embrace the status quo, like the other matches in this painting, preferring comfort and protecting themselves. But they are not fulfilling their potential.

    That is not why they were made.

    If God planted a dream in your heart, you have the moral imperative to chase it. Because your example might be exactly what someone else needs to achieve theirs.

    Your spark can enflame and bring life to others.

    As St. Catherine of Siena said, “Be who God meant you to be and you will set the world on fire.”

    You were born for this.

  • Don’t Fight Fire With Fire

    “Don’t Fight Fight with Fire” by Jason Kotecki. 20 x 16. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    If you try to do anything worthwhile, you’ll likely suffer skeptics and critics.

    When you encounter naysayers, you have a few options. You can allow them to stop you. This is generally not advised, especially if they are little more than bullies. Or you can use their doubts as fuel. 

    This is what I recommend, but with caution.

    You see, that fuel burns hot. If you rely too much on it, you can end up consumed with anger and rage. If it becomes all about proving someone else wrong, rather than pursuing something worthwhile that brings you joy, you will be the loser in the end.

    When I was younger, I idolized Michael Jordan. Besides his athletic prowess, I also admired his work ethic, determination, and persistence. But I also remember the speech he gave when he was inducted into the NBA Hall of Fame. Despite having accomplished everything a player could possibly achieve and being widely regarded as the greatest of all time, he was still holding on to grudges from decades gone by. Perceived slights from his high school basketball coach, teammates, reporters, and fellow competitors. He was still trying to torch them all to prove his dominance, spitting out petty barbs to people he perceived as having wronged him. He came across as bitter, shallow, and small.

    Those slights he used to fuel his competitive drive seemed to have consumed him, leaving him charred.

    It’s natural to want to right perceived wrongs. But as many wise people have said, “Withholding forgiveness is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.”

    Our culture today seems more combative than ever. Trash-talking is considered an art form. We are urged to use the haters to fuel our rise, and then, when our success is undeniable, use it to torch them. When we win, it’s open season on our opponent. We must reign fiery retorts and comebacks down upon them, shaming them into submission. The more clever the comeback, the more street cred we receive.

    But there’s a better way, and the Wright Brothers are a great example.

    As you might imagine, the race to be the first to fly was heated. The two were fiercely competitive, but they never badmouthed their competitors, choosing instead to compliment their good qualities.

    One of their biggest rivals was a man by the name of Samuel Langley. He was the head of the Smithsonian, one of the most respected scientists of the day, and by far the most well-funded individual pursuing the problem of flight. He portrayed a haughty pride over his self-perceived inevitability of success. Ultimately, he experienced a very public, very humiliating failure.

    One that opened the door for the Wright Brothers to gloat.

    As I read David McCullough’s book about them, I found myself rooting for Orville and Wilbur to do some sort of well-deserved verbal victory dance.

    They never did.

    McCullough writes:

    “Neither brother was ever to make critical or belittling comments about Langley. Rather, they expressed respect and gratitude for the part he had played in their efforts. Just knowing that the head of the Smithsonian, the most prominent scientific institution in America, believed in the possibility of human flight was one of the influences that led them to proceed with their work.

    Wilbur told Octave Chanute in a letter written some years later: ‘He possessed mental and moral qualities of the kind that influence history. When scientists in general considered it discreditable to work in the field of aeronautics, he possessed both the discernment to discover possibilities there and the moral courage to subject himself to the ridicule of the public and the apologies of his friends. He deserves more credit for this than he has yet received.’”

    How kind. How gracious. And frankly, how epically badass.

    Taking the high road and responding with kindness possesses an underrated level of effectiveness. For the Bible tells us that when you treat your enemies with kindness, “you heap burning coals upon their head.”

    Don’t let the naysayers stop you. You can turn them into motivation, but be careful about using them for fuel.

    Fighting fire with fire leaves both of you as a pile of ash.

  • True Believer

    “True Believer” by Jason Kotecki. 24 x 24. Oil on canvas.
    Original is available. 🟢 Shop this art!

    Dreams always take longer than we think.

    There may be such a thing as overnight successes, but if so, they don’t stay successful for very long.

    More often than not, so-called “overnight successes” are anything but.

    One time, Kim and I spent a couple of hundred dollars on a two-day craft show. That was a big chunk of change for us at the time — about two months’ worth of groceries. We were next to a booth where a guy was selling knockoff Garfield tchotchkes. Meanwhile, we moved a grand total of $7.92 worth of greeting cards. It was rough. Then we drowned our sorrows in sirloin steaks at Outback, which made our negative profit margin even worse.

    I have a lot of stories like that from the early days. Happy times.

    Over the years, I have often felt like the sloth in this painting. Very little progress to show for a heck of a lot of effort.

    But then I think of things like that craft show, and I’m impressed and even a little surprised by how far we’ve come. There is a great sense of satisfaction in what we’ve built and the things we’ve accomplished, regardless of how much distance there is left to cover.

    Anything worth building takes time.

    More time than you think it should.

    Like way more.

    We need to hear that reminder often, because it goes for everything from dream businesses and amazing relationships to paying off Bank of America and mastering the clarinet. Thanks to the proliferation of microwave ovens and high-speed internet, progress always seems to be taking longer than it should. Then the media peddles their stories of overnight success. They catapulted to fame and fortune in one fell swoop; why can’t you?

    When the early buzz of enthusiasm wanes, discouragement is quick to settle in. It is during those seasons that we need to look for and listen to our true believers.

    I’ve been fortunate to have quite a few in my life.

    My Grandma K. made me feel like I was special, just as I was.

    My third-grade teacher, Mrs. Smith, encouraged me to take my artistic talent seriously.

    My Little League coach, Mr. Dawson, helped me believe that I was a winner.

    My high school art teacher, Mrs. Garrett, made me believe I had the talent to do this for a living.

    When I was an uncertain teenager, Deacon Vince saw me as a grown-up with valuable contributions to make.

    When Kim and I got married and launched our business, we were graced with a few true believers who saw the vision, including our parents and our best friends, Sue and Jenna. Theirs were not just empty words of encouragement. They responded with action by offering their time, money, and prayers. This signaled the proof of their belief.

    The certainty from true believers is invaluable. There will come a time when you lose faith in the vision, and you will need them to remind you that it’s real.

    Mounting failures and things taking longer than you expected take a toll. That vision, which once seemed so clear, begins to fade. You wonder if all the naysayers were right. After all, so many of them have way more experience than you, and the evidence seems to be piling up in their favor. Maybe I AM delusional? Maybe I was mistaken? Maybe the signals got crossed and I accidentally co-opted a dream that was not meant for me…

    I entertained all these thoughts at various times. It was tempting to give up.

    But then I remembered my parents. And Kim’s parents. And Sue and Jenna. I remembered that nobody pours money or time into a lost cause. Their sacrifice was tangible proof of their belief in us. It helped assure me that no, this is not a mirage. It’s real. They see it.

    Their belief bolstered my own.

    We need cheerleaders to succeed. They give us the boost we need when our dream seems late in coming.

    There are a few reasons dreams take longer than we think they should.

    One is partly for us to prove how much we want it.

    But it’s also because the most important part of a dream is who we become in the process of chasing it. That’s the real reward.

    When success doesn’t materialize as quickly as you thought it would and you’re discouraged by your dream taking too long, don’t despair. Heed the true believer cheering you on.

    Take it from the sloth. Achieving anything worthwhile is a marathon, not a sprint.

  • The Fly Girl

    “The Fly Girl” by Jason Kotecki. 20 x 20. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    This is part of “Adultitis Fighters,” a series of paintings by Jason Kotecki featuring real and fictional characters who serve as role models in the fight against Adultitis.

    At a time when women were expected to stay firmly on the ground, Amelia Earhart set her sights on the sky and refused to let fear or convention clip her wings. With her daring flights and record-breaking adventures, she proved that many of the limits people accept are nothing more than “rules that don’t exist.” More than just a pilot, Amelia embodied the spirit of wonder and rebellion. Her courage, playfulness, and curiosity turned the world into a playground of possibility, inspiring generations to follow their own dreams. In choosing to live boldly, she showed us all how to rise above the ordinary and reminds us that life is meant to be an adventure.

    “Never interrupt someone doing what you said  couldn’t be done.”

    “Never do things others can do and will do, if there are things others cannot do or will not do.”

    “The most difficult thing is the decision to act, the rest  is merely tenacity.”

    “Adventure is worthwhile in itself.”

  • The Prepper

    “The Prepper” by Jason Kotecki. 16 x 16. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    When my wife told me she was pregnant with our first child, my heart filled with joy.

    Two seconds later, panic arrived at the party.

    All I could think about was how profoundly our lives were about to change and I didn’t have the slightest idea of how to prepare. I immediately began searching Amazon for the latest owner’s manual for babies.

    Kim, on the other hand, seemed to calmly slide into the nesting phase that’s common to many moms in the animal kingdom. In preparation for a new life, they instinctually work to create conditions for that new life to thrive.

    In the years since I’ve seen Kim navigate this phase for all three of our kids, and I’ve realized there are parallels between mothers and artists. While not all of us get to experience motherhood, I believe that every last one of us is an artist.

    Yes, even if you can only draw stick figures.

    In essence, an artist is simply someone who brings something new and beautiful into the world with the potential to improve it in some way. It’s a one-of-a-kind gift that could not be created by anyone else.

    You could have been born at any time in any place, but you were born when and where you were born and you are alive now. You were born for a reason! As long as you’re still breathing, you have something within you the world needs.

    It might be a novel, a non-profit, a painting, or a play. Perhaps it’s a sculpture, a sonnet, or a song. It could also be that a building, a business, or a movement will be your masterpiece.

    We need to take this endeavor as seriously as a mother takes the preparations for her new baby. We need to create conditions that give our undertaking its best chance of success, and that involves three things: supplies, space, and safety.

    A serious mother collects the supplies that will be needed to help her succeed: diapers, bottles, creams, clothes, blankets, and toys. A serious artist needs supplies, too. It might be pens, pencils, paper and paint, or yarn, wood, software, or clay.

    A serious mother considers where the baby will sleep and play and she creates space for that to happen. Likewise, a serious artist also requires a dedicated space, even if it’s just a small folding table in the corner of their bedroom, or a workbench in the back of the garage.

    Finally, a serious mother makes preparations to ensure her youngster is protected and safe to grow and develop. A serious artist also needs a safe space for creativity. New ideas are especially fragile. One must not judge them too harshly at the start, for they need time to blossom into what they are to become.

    The nesting stage is fun, exciting, and imbued with the magic of anticipation, as you envision all the memories (or masterpieces) that will be made. It is a good inclination to want everything you need, and make sure it all has a place. After all, when you are in the whirlwind of caring for a newborn (or in the thick of the creative process), it’s helpful to have what you need, when you need it.

    But don’t be fooled.

    The trap that awaits both mothers and artists is the desire to have all the supplies one could corral, the most ideal space one could hope for, and the highest level of safety and comfort possible.

    All parents eventually come to discover that you are never fully prepared for a baby to arrive in your home. There will always be something you’ve forgotten, something you run out of too quickly.

    It’s ok. Eventually, you learn to make do, and from these constraints come real growth.

    One thing is certain…when it comes to parenting, Mother Nature will not be delayed. The baby is coming, ready or not.

    Alas, this is where the comparisons diverge, for the artist has no such advantage. As such, he or she may be lured into a trap that tricks them into a never-ending nesting phase of collecting all the colors and tools and tricks of the trade.

    It’s an illusion. Under the guise of being serious, the artist is now simply hiding. One must never be fooled into waiting for conditions to be perfect, because they never will be.

    If an artist is not careful, nine months of preparation can slip into nine years of procrastination, justified by not enough time, not enough space, not enough money to begin. Before you know it, nine decades of life are spent and the art your soul desired to make, the gift the world so desperately needed from you, never gets to emerge.

    Serious artists don’t let preparation turn into procrastination.

    We don’t need perfection. But we do need your art.

    That’s why we need you to take it seriously.

  • The Joyful Elf

    “The Joyful Elf” by Jason Kotecki. 20 x 20. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    This is part of “Adultitis Fighters,” a series of paintings by Jason Kotecki featuring real and fictional characters who serve as role models in the fight against Adultitis.

    Buddy the Elf, played by Will Ferrell in the movie Elf, shows us how to embrace life with joy, creativity, and unrelenting optimism. Buddy is unapologetically himself and marvels at the simplest pleasures. He has a knack for breaking the monotony of adult life, improvising solutions and injecting fun into routine tasks. He regularly spreads joy through acts of kindness. Despite being surrounded by skeptical adults, Buddy doesn’t let their negativity diminish his joy or mission. He models resilience in preserving one’s childlike spirit.

    “Does somebody need a hug?”

    “There’s room for everyone on the Nice List.”

    “We elves try to stick to the four main food groups: candy, candy canes, candy corns, and syrup.”

    “The best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear.”

    “I just like to smile. Smiling’s my favorite.”

    “Treat every day like Christmas.”