Yesterday, I was in the basement with my boys. While they were playing a game on our old computer, I started thumbing through some of our art books to get some sort of inspiration. One of them, a sort of A-Z of artists, got me really interested.

I had taken many art history courses in college, but I didn't really pay a lot in attention to the details. I was still a young punk and the stuff that interests me now I sort of blew off. Most of the artists (along with their works) in the book I knew so well. I knew roughly when they lived, but never paid attention to the gap between the dates.

That's when I saw the young ages at which some of these amazing visionaries passed away.

• Masaccio, 1401-1428 (age 26)
• Andrea del Castagno, c. 1421-1457 (age 36)
• Giorgione, c. 1477-1510 (age 33)
• Raphael, 1483-1520 (age 37)
• Parmigianino, 1503-1540 (age 37)
• Caravaggio, 1572-1610 (age 38)
• Antoine Watteau, 1684-1721 (age 36)
• Théodore Géricault, 1791-1824 (age 32)
• Jules Bastien-Lepage, 1848-1884 (age 36)
• Vincent van Gogh, 1853-1890 (age 37)
• Georges-Pierre Seurat, 1859-1891 (age 31)
• Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, 1864-1901 (age 36)
• Aubrey Beardsley, 1872-1898 (age 25)
• Paula Modersohn-Becker, 1876-1907 (age 31)
• Franz Marc, 1880-1916 (age 36)
• Amedeo Modigliani, 1884-1920 (age 35)
• Eva Hesse, 1936-1970 (age 34)
• Keith Haring, 1958-1990 (age 31)

I picked these names because they all died younger than I am now (38). I am by no means on the level of those people, and frankly I consider myself just talented enough to be dangerous. But I saw those people and what they had created when they were so much younger than I.

I started thinking of myself as a failure, that I should be at least a little better than I am. Heck, I have seen some high school students who could paint circles around me. It was really bugging me, the failure I saw myself. Not that they were successful, but that they had honed their craft far more.

I guess most people would distance themselves from those artists, but I had grown up being told by people how talented I was, how great of an artist I was, how creative I was. I tried not to let it get to me, but in the back of my head, I felt like I was being groomed for greatness. I really wish I hadn't had my ego stroked to such a degree.

I don't blame all the people in my life who have done it. Heck, if I see someone with amazing talent, especially in something I can't do, I will praise that talent. Whether it's musical, logical, athletic, literary, or what have you. Unless you're the worst hard-ass in the world, we are all guilty of stroking egos to some degree and praising what God has given others.

Perhaps part of my slight melancholy is knowing that I'm twenty years out of high school; it's kind of a big number. I think part of it is seeing the pages in my comic after I get them done and thinking, "Come on, Marc, you know you can do better than that!" And I know part of it is watching someone paint or draw and not being able to reproduce it.

But, the more I dwell on the subject of my own lack of training, I see where I am happy in what I can do and where I am in my life.

The famous artists are simply that: artists. They train, train, and train. They devote their lives to their crafts and are dependent on their talents for their income. If they don't sell, they may not eat.

Up until the last few centuries, artists became artists by being apprentices to other artists. Mixing paints, stretching canvases, making brushes, and painting the large unimportant areas was their daily life. Nowadays, people go to school to hone their talents. Some people create art as a paid job: advertising, animation, game creation, comic and magazine art, etc.

I'm pretty sure if my life lent more time to creation, then my skills would be better. As it is, art is something I do anymore in my spare time. If I could draw and paint all day and get paid for it, I'd do it in a heartbeat.

Perhaps another thing that has dragged me down from being further along in my skills was the years during and after depression. Throughout junior high, high school, and college, I was fighting some issues and many suicidal thoughts. I think I was my most creative then, but I stopped trying in college and dropped out (and was probably at my emotional worst). I had a painting class in my last semester there, but I only went for maybe one day; so really most of my painting ability is self-taught (except for what I learned from Mrs. Bittner in high school).

From then up until the last couple of years, art was something I did occasionally. I did some paintings, drew some pictures, but nothing that I really tried at. I guess it wasn't until I accepted Christ that I got the urge to dust off those talents again.

I'm not trying to make excuses for myself as to why I'm not great and successful, but I see that where I am in what I do depends on me. I also see that I'm pretty happy in where I am now creatively. I get to draw and paint, but I'm not dependent on it for an income. I'm not the best, but I have some fun trying to get better, and some of my stuff makes me a little giddy when I do something I think is good.

You know, actually, life overall is good. I've got a wonderful stable marriage with the most beautiful woman in the world, great kids, a roof over my head, food for my stomach, clothes for my back, good friends, and a God who loves me.

I guess I'm also happy now because art no longer defines me. When you're defined by something, so much more is expected because of it. I am far more than one aspect of me, especially to my wife and sons. God indeed created each one of us with specific gifts, but He also saw to it that we had the ability to be something else in addition.