For years now, I've been getting older.
We're all going through it, right? Though before I turned 40, I didn't give it much thought. Now I get out my mirror for a self-portrait and have to decide how many wrinkles to include. How dark to make the darkness under my eyes.
Include it all, I say! Because aging is what I plan to keep doing, as long as possible.
Acceptance is one thing. But how can I embrace the fact of getting older? Well, one way is to look at this drawing I just did, look beyond the wrinkles and see an accomplished artist with a strong line and a strong sense of rendering. There's real feeling here, the result of years of honing my skill, through many hundreds of drawings. And I can only get better, as I continue to work on my art (and my writing.)
So is it aging or is in improving?
I guess it's all in how you decide to look at it.
I try for a line a day- or two or three - some bit of sketching, doesn't matter what.
Actually, I don't even have to try, because I doodle. But I also do self-portraits, or draw Madeline while she's drawing or reading, draw in the cafe. And don't forget the cats.
Sometimes I go out and listen to Hank playing music- this time with fellow guitarist John Corbin at a fabulous wine bar in downtown Asheville- and I draw the musicians. They're hands are in constant motion and they make weird faces. My hand moves quickly, too, trying to capture their energy.
This one's got a little something never before seen in any Hank rendition- his tattoo. He insisted I include it, even though it's actually on the other arm. Poetic license, he said.
I'll call it a few extra lines. And, bam!, there's your tatoo.
The first one is from 1996. The second one is from today. So what's changed since 1996?
I cut my hair (and dye it now.) I got married. My mother died (in 2000.) The twin towers. I had a baby (in 2003.)
I stopped drawing for awhile there, though I was doing some wild abstract paintings. A few months after Madeline was born, I wrote a picture book. A few years ago, I bought myself a new set of rapidographs. And a bunch of woodless pencils (my favorite kind of pencil!) and a few china markers (hard to unravel.) So I'm drawing again.
But what else is different? I feel like I hardly know that bold, confident young woman from 1996. Before all that crap happened. Before I spent so much time worrying about my parenting skills, or lack of. She looks so carefree.
I am not carefree. But I do have my set of rapidographs and a brand new bottle of ink.
And I've written a bunch more books. And I am more likely now to go to conferences and talk to people I don't know. I am more able now to send my stories and drawings out into the world and greet rejection letters with a 'that's okay; I'll just keep trying." I am more able to say "I'm an artist." Because I really am. So maybe this is the new, bolder Constance, after all. The one who is writing a blog in 2010. Which is something I never would have done (technology notwithstanding) in 1996!
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For years now, I've been getting older. 
So well said. I vote for improving!
Kit Grady
I like that we all look different as we age, less like kids trying to play grown-up. There's so much character in laugh lines, stretch marks, and scars. How many good stories do you get from perfection?