tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-690400023329277323.post6459571519372087400..comments2024-01-03T13:18:24.500-05:00Comments on Paper Paintings: Fabulous AND FlawedElizabeth St. Hilaire Nelsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06785958267715615197noreply@blogger.comBlogger6125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-690400023329277323.post-56120534998469320072013-04-08T22:31:44.224-04:002013-04-08T22:31:44.224-04:00Quinn, so eloquently put, of course. Indeed we all...Quinn, so eloquently put, of course. Indeed we all have a bit of Target eraser in us. I'm feeling like the distressed imprint is way more beautiful, for the uniqueness of its flaws. Elizabeth St. Hilaire Nelsonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06785958267715615197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-690400023329277323.post-86326431744893184732013-04-08T22:25:38.106-04:002013-04-08T22:25:38.106-04:00Ah Jo! I've missed you so much. I didn't k...Ah Jo! I've missed you so much. I didn't know this and I'm glad you shared it. It is freeing to be able to let it go. You are so talented, and generous. I value out friendship. ThAnk you!Elizabeth St. Hilaire Nelsonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06785958267715615197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-690400023329277323.post-86356829099187749132013-04-08T19:04:43.354-04:002013-04-08T19:04:43.354-04:00I'm flawed, too, Elizabeth. When I was 13 mont...I'm flawed, too, Elizabeth. When I was 13 months old, just learning to walk, I tripped and grabbed the coffee perculator cord and pulled a full pot of boiling hot coffee, grounds and all, down onto my head and shoulders. This baby nearly died but was left with scars on the back of my neck, shoulders and arms. For years I hid under sleeves and collars but now that I'm at the other end of life, like you my attitude is "it is what it is". No one cares that I'm scared, nor do I any more and I've learned to love wearing wide necklines and short sleeves, knowing that ridicule was only in my mind and never in the thoughts of others. It's so freeing.Jo Reimerhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17381636308808299868noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-690400023329277323.post-28939193445268434262013-04-08T15:30:48.222-04:002013-04-08T15:30:48.222-04:00Perfect is the enemy of good. Or great. We are all...Perfect is the enemy of good. Or great. We are all perfectly imperfect and that's the best place to create from. Life carves on us like a Target eraser, and the result is a distressed imprint. Beautiful the way it is.Quinnhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12368491071885320553noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-690400023329277323.post-78497159151591624482013-04-08T08:51:29.212-04:002013-04-08T08:51:29.212-04:00Thank you Sandy! Very well put. And the accent thi...Thank you Sandy! Very well put. And the accent thing is so funny because North Boston sounds nothing like Oz!Elizabeth St. Hilaire Nelsonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06785958267715615197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-690400023329277323.post-25690872145174896702013-04-08T01:34:22.103-04:002013-04-08T01:34:22.103-04:00Hear hear! Great post Elizabeth. The need to be or...Hear hear! Great post Elizabeth. The need to be or 'do' perfect is so insidious and draining and it is so liberating to let go and just be ourselves in whatever form we are. It's a wonderful gift also to be able to be accepting of the flawed state of others too, it can mean so much to someone. Oh, nothing wrong with having an Australian accent..... :)<br /><br />SandySandyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14970731228348143635noreply@blogger.com