On a recent road trip, we listened to a biography of a well known creative. “Becoming Steve Jobs” is a compassionate telling of the complex, mightily irascible trajectory of one man. Smirking adjectives about Jobs are commonly known. He was to many even a real “jerk”. But what makes Schlender and Tetzeli’s account different is the insider tales of how Jobs learned, how he adjusted sometimes with uncharacteristic humility. And it’s this behind the scenes stuff that gave the Tech industry giant some longevity.

At one point in the fast moving audio I heard Jobs’ glib projection. “Real Artists______”. They do what!? We played it back: they “Ship”. Ok. What does that mean? Contextually Jobs was promoting his envisioned product. But I started thinking about whether this was a true statement.

I once heard a sermon from a brilliant South African. He was talking about snowflakes; and how the majority are never ever seen. They are just broadcast for a few moments into the light, then laid down to rest in snowmelt. But with incredible fractal patterns, each is distinctly unique. Each cries “glory!” metaphorically to a Crafter with sublime vision. Does God ship?

And if the broadcasting in the skies is a form of shipping, what is God getting for it? Who is commending His longevity?

Back to earth, there is something in Job’s proclamation that does ring true for me. I have ideas and ambition, but unless my hands get busy, unless I have the courage to learn from the messes, and unless I manifest it somewhere. I have nothin’. Yesterday I picked up from the post office a piece which has been all over the country in a 3 year traveling show: Scribes of Hope, II. Now that show is retired and my piece back home to mama. This month I shipped an oil piece on paper to a designer in Texas for a company’s lobby. I don’t ship often, but when I do I guess I can say, according to Jobs’ definition, that I’m a real artist. At least this is true: I’m becoming who I am.