I feel like someone with a rudimentary knowledge of a foreign language. I can communicate in a basic way, but I could never write a poem in that language. Because I can't lay down strokes with precision and grace, I tend to overwork everything, leaving a muddy mess. Grace is a big part of making art. And grace requires a kind of thoughtlessness; you need to relax your control-freak dictator of a mind and let your hands work. I can do that with a pen or a pen-tool, but for some reason with a brush I have no no-mind and I scrub and fuss and have no grace. The little bowl and saucer show a glimmer of hope, and if I struggled with it, I might get slightly better, but life's too short. It's frustrating to come up against limitations, but it's also helpful.I wish I were good at everything, but it's good to be good at something.