a well-put essay on so-called "talent"

Check this post here that I found through a crochet/knit designer's blog. It's called, "Knitting is not hard," and it addresses the comments people make when they see stuff you make. "You're SOOOO talented! I'm too stupid to learn how to crochet/knit/paint/etc." I'll add the comment I hear, "I can't even draw a stick figure!" Ok, I know what hyperbole is, as I use it ALLLLL the time (see? I don't really use it all the time, but there is some hyperbole right there). But as the author of this article says, I can do these things not because I was coated with magic creativity dust when I entered the world; my supposed talent comes from years of practice, failure, a little bit of facility, and persistence. The desire to do what I am doing is a huge factor as well--once upon a time, I had really good grades and enjoyed Geometry, doing proofs, bisecting triangles and whatnot. I wasn't super-dooper into it though, and didn't pursue the subject outside of my classes (except to make patterns, cut mats, or figure out canvas yardage I'd need, which isn't much more than counting and a few angles). Since my math skills have gone fallow, I am woefully daft when it comes to numbers (evinced two weeks ago, when I arrived at a child's birthday party a DAY LATE. idiot). I don't presume that people who do math well just magically picked it up, but I know that they worked very hard to learn the concepts that allow them to do math with apparent ease. I am flattered, of course, when people enjoy the things that I have made. It's one of the main reasons I do my work. Again, as the author states, it belittles the enormous effort and time put into the skill to call it a talent, as if you either have it or you don't.

When I learned to crochet in elementary school, I clearly remember being supremely frustrated that my yarn kept splitting, how awkward the yarn felt, and how manky the finished product was from all the stops and starts, ripping out, and being squeezed around my sweaty fingers. I stopped crocheting altogether, and didn't start again until twenty years later. After drawing, writing, piano lessons, sculpting, folding origami, painting classes, teaching 600 children how to sew, and knitting, my fingers felt so natural holding the hook and yarn that I cursed aloud: "Why have I been bothering to knit at all!!? This is so much easier, I feel robbed!" I knew that my hands remembered their old skills, however feeble they were, and the intervening years of other fine motor skills just caught up with the old motions. Skill piled up on the foundation of muscle memory, and the rest is history.

Enjoy the work, praise the maker, but don't call it talent.