I walked into an art supply store for the first time in about 3 1/2 years today. The last time was to buy supplies for a watercolor class right after I graduated and all I remember about the experience was choking back my exclamations regarding the price of my brushes.
Back when I was a college student (and poor/under my parents' nest), going to the supply store was a chore, because it meant the start of a long, painful and sleep deprived project and more dent to my school budget. It was just something we did, just like we went to studio every day and designed for 8 hours or more. (Then went down to the Cafe for a pitcher.) These days I don't do too much design. That is technically what my field is, but the arena in which I currently practice has little need for sketchbooks and charcoal pencils. My free time has been less and less inclined to art.
But today. Oh glorious day of leaving work early due to the heat (one benefit of working sans A.C.). I stopped in one of the 3 (!!!) supply stores near the local art college to pick up a few materials for my graphic exam on Monday. I walked in and was overwhelmed by the array of markers and paper and brushes and acrylic and oil and pastel - I wanted to buy them all!!! Fortunately my meter only had 10 minutes for me to get in and out so I left with only and assortment of pencils, pack of drawing markers, drawing board and pencil case.
The thing is, I haven't thought much about art for many years even though I did a lot of it in my day. Jewelry design (minimal in highschool), sewing and fashion design, watercolor. Heck, I was a design major! And somehow I managed to push it out of my mind that I had ever enjoyed doing those things. That I was too busy. That I was too impatient and too busy. (Ok those last two are true, at least the former for sure). But you can train yourself out of those things, can't you? I have to be patient with myself, gentle with myself. Allow myself to make mistakes. Take it like riding a horse, which I also push out of my mind how much I miss because it hurts too much to think about it. Know that it will take some time and I will continue to make mistakes, that walking can be the hardest lesson of all, that little my little you will get better, without - sometimes especially without - thinking about it.
So am I ready to make the foray back into art? I think so. Maybe this time I will get myself a book and really learn the process instead of getting frustrated that my first attempt is crap. (I definitely learn initially my direction and example.)
Artists out there - how did you get yourself past the initial attempts? Because I tend to think that you all started out fantastically. Prove me wrong? Please?
Ahh, I love this. I know the feelings, and often get down on myself for not writing enough. I try to ignore the urges and explain away why I am not being diligent in my craft, but it all comes down to my excuses...darn.
ReplyDeleteYour questions remind me of the book, Bird by Bird by Ann Lamott. She talks about 'shitty first drafts' and how they are in fact--necessary. I'd bet it is the same in painting. Go for it! Sounds like it is the outlet and passion you've been missing. :)
Oh Emmy,
ReplyDeleteIf I had a dollar for every painting ripped off its canvas or painted over, well, I'd have a whole lot more in savings. The best work often doesn't come easy, and the even the most glorious piece still has its ugly stage. Promise.
One of the reoccurring messages I seem to keep receiving is that we often just need to show up. This art thing is bigger than any one of us, and the vision that we hold wants to shine out, and we just need to give it the time and energy. The idea is there, your hands will be able to translate.
That said, paint like it's just for you, like it's only play, like there is no end game, no set of rules. You'll find your footing faster than you think.
xox