If you exclude writing, my artistic/creative interests and abilities rate a 2 on a scale of 1-10. Barely.
I have great confidence in my writing ability, but painting, sculpture, music, dance, opera, ballet—let’s just say they don’t rate very high in my imaginary list of things I enjoy. They fit in somewhere between dental appointments and petting porcupines.
Several stories illustrate it well (but I'll only share one here, so as not to lose all of my followers and friends):
I once worked for a week in a New York City hospital with a Biomed tech who happened to be a Russian immigrant. He loved art, the Russian masters in particular. He spent the better part of two days rattling off his favorite painters, telling me why their works were so sublime, and showing me his favorite works on his phone.
Finally exasperated that I didn't swoon in the presence of such magnificence, he asked who my favorite artist was. I don't know enough about art to have one, and not wanting to get into a high brow debate over why my faves didn't hold a candle to his Masters, I said the first name that came to mind: Norman Rockwell.
Besides mandatory work-related communi-cation, he didn't speak to me the rest of the week.
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