mirror ball 72: people who are inspirations

Who inspires you? 
Who has traits you want to emulate? 
Who do you look up to (or see eye-to-eye with) with admiration? 
What person/people keep you moving forward?

Phoebe:

Wonderful topic, and timely for me, as I just fell in love with a new inspiration. I went to the IFC center to see Elaine Stritch Shoot Me. http://elainestritchshootme.com/

Her tenacity, style, uncompromising outspokenness, and facing her struggles head on are totally inspiring to me. I want to be like her, live life as I want, stop conforming to the normal, stop being afraid to be me! As I walked out of the theater I wanted to quit my job and pursue my dreams. Once I find a way to support myself that doesn't involve sitting at a desk in a windowless office, I will realize this dream... in the meantime, I think I'll buy a couple of men's ties, as a reminder.

Dave D:

As a visual artist, I have always had a little negative thought in the back of mind. 

I have always been the kind of artist that flits around from medium to medium and subject matter to subject matter, like a kid in a toy shop wanting to try everything. Figurative then abstract, then back to figurative...that kind of thing. Of course the downside of this butterfly behaviour is that there is a tendency towards becoming ' Jack of all trades, master of none', and and that I would not be recognised for having a particular style and identity.

Quite a few of my artist friends ( most in fact) take the opposite approach, sticking to one area of work, fine tuning, and honing their pieces towards some intangible idea of their perfection. Admirable, but this became quite unsettling, as that just isn't me.

This negativity was turned completely on its head when, a few years ago, I went to see a large retrospective of the German artist Gerhard Richter at the Tate Modern in London. He was an artist I already admired, and knew of his abstract paintings, and also his figurative work, so for me, this was looking encouraging!

I had the most fantastic day looking at the scale and diversity of his work, with video interviews and so on. I had no idea until then just how diverse he was in his practice. Yes, the dragged abstracts and the figurative fuzzy photo paintings, but that turned out to be just a part of his oeuvre. Smeared postcards, paintings on photos and magazine cut-outs, photos in their own right, scrappy little planning drawings, tightly detailed little drawings, etchings and mono-prints both abstract and figurative....the list just goes on and on.

This was a fantastic insight into mind and obsessions of a contemporary master, and although this wealth of creativity was in some ways almost frightening, it certainly made me feel less insecure about my own natural inclinations towards diversity and experimentation.

I came away thinking that if I was to have a distinct artistic personal identity, then that was the kind of identity I wanted.....succeeding or failing...to perhaps be known as a less predictable experimental artist, and to surprise with every square metre of the gallery wall.

Gus:
My fiancée Anna Schreiber, who is always there beside me, no matter how many kilometres separate us, reconnecting me with my purpose in life and what's possible.

Liz W:
I admire my daughter.

I sat on the couch with her the other night and listened to a tirade of frustration and hurt and anger. It's what mom's do, at 11:00 pm when their daughters get off work from the first full time job they have ever had and need to vent. We suck up our tiredness because our child needs to deliver the emotional goods and we need to receive them, no matter how tired we may be.

My daughter is a miracle. All our daughters are, I know, but I'm talking about the person I admire and why. The "why" of her hurt and anger the other night doesn't matter here, just that she unloaded it in the forceful and articulate way that she did. With tears flying from her eyes, (the only human I have seen with that ability) she ranted about why what had happened was hurtful, why her feelings had been crushed, how small and powerless she felt and how much better she deserved. I listened and stroked her hands, her shoulder, finally trying to draw her close. "Put your head on my shoulder so I can shush you, Sweetheart" "No! I'm not done venting yet!"

When she was little she received a diagnosis that came with the prediction that her intelligence was so limited that her likelihood of living an independent adult life was low. I said fuck that and so, apparently, did she. I admire her ability to stand in her own emotional reality, to own it and say it, clearly. I admire her connection with her heart and her fierce sense of fairness and rightness. I admire her courage and her unguarded ability to speak her truth. I learn from her immediacy every day.

--Maggie's mom

Eve:

Actually, you know who inspires me Mr. Mirror Ball? You do. For all the years I have known you, you have always been magnificently open in your exploration of how to best live your life. You are not afraid to make big moves and changes, while still prioritizing  your creativity and your deep and mindful partnership with J. You marvel in the simple and not so simple pleasures of love and glitter and soft cats and good soup and gardens and time travel and art in many forms, both "high" and " low". You keep evolving and thinking and feeling your way along in wildly creative ways, and you invite us all to join you from time to time, which, for me at least, is inspiring. Added bonus points for boxing and dahlias.

I know you weren't fishing, but it's the truth honey.

Steve:
A few years ago I went into a costume shop. I think I was looking for a beard. At any rate, I was knocked out by the woman behind the counter. She was getting on in years but had big bright orange curly hair, giant jewelry, a green scoop-neck top, and a gravelly smoker's voice. She didn't go out of her way to assist me. I was smitten. 

When I was considering how to respond this theme, other people came to mind first, but I soon realized that I really wanted to share about my love and admiration for the type of woman once called a tough old broad. These women delight me; my love for them is sincere. Some I only know as characters in old films, others I have seen in photos from the early-to-mid-20th century. I have met a few in person. 

I admire the tough old broad because she is a survivor and because she survives not by hiding but by being tenacious and/or fighting back. She shows her sexuality beyond the age that our society considers appropriate, and with a body not considered ideal. She may be hardened and showy. She has a brash sense of humor and does not suffer fools. She has a sentimental streak. She dresses up. There's part of me that wants to be like her. Truth be told, there's part of me that is.