O.k. to clarify I didn’t go to Art Therapy this week. I signed up for an actual art class where you produce a painting, today’s theme was poppies, and get to bring the painting home. Seemed like a better idea than spending two hours ripping out the same color again.
*I did do my homework for Art Therapy and glued all of the blue pieces onto the large piece of white paper. Someone told me it was suppose to be calming and meditative. Instead I was frustrated, wondering why on earth I was doing this, covered in glue and cursing at the magazine strips as they ripped. I even emailed the instructor and told her wouldn’t be in this week, see what a good student I am, and asked what the homework was (dreading the answer to be the next color is…). Her response ‘I can’t tell you since you need to be in class to fully benefit from the lesson’. What? Top secret? Benefit from the lesson of ripping out strips of blue from magazines? I turned to look at my completed homework and came very close to destroying it, especially when I learned that the class would be completing that art project this week. Wasted time. Yet, knowing I was missing out on the top secret lesson, I still chose to go to the art class and learn some painting techniques.
I entered the class later than I wanted to. I am always on time or early, so thank you ttc. I quickly picked my spot and tried to catch up. The painting, from far away and on the website looks beautiful. A mountain scene with a sunset, trees and a glorious lush field filled with poppies. Was excited to be guided and bring home my own masterpiece.
As I may have mentioned before I am somewhat of a perfectionist. Ok I am one. I like to do things right and take my time and am my worst critic. The instructor must have been thinking that we were all famous painters, as she was rushing through the techniques, colors, blending and application so quickly that I was still on mixing the green into the white, while she was five steps ahead of me. I was getting stressed out, colors turning out brown and my sunset, which is to be this light purple/pink was anything but. The lady beside me was trying to be supportive (she had taken 2 six week courses already), the lady on the other side of me at one point put red on my pallet (I didn’t even know we needed red), she had taken many courses before. Did I forget to read the fine print?
Has this happened to anyone before? Where you think you enter an entry level class and find yourself in the masters class? (I was going to write ‘in the deep end’ but too many mixed metaphors).
So I struggled to follow, thankfully class was interrupted, when my table partner upended the entire table, paint, water, paintings, everything everywhere. I say thankfully because this gave me time to 1.get a coffee and 2. blame my painting on the table accident. (This really did happen, wish I was clever enough to come up with that kind of a cover story)
By the end I was frustrated and did what a lot of new artists do, I kept painting. Yep. Added, mixed, added more poppies (well large red things in the field), and tried to keep blending till they took my paint away from me. Literally took the paint away.
It is ironic, how all through the class I wanted to leave, what I thought was a 2 hour class was actually four hours, no break, no lunch, just paint and paint some more! Yet, at the end I was the last one sitting there, still painting.
Why did I care at the end? The perfectionist in me? The desire to keep trying? I even carried it home gently and have it up on my bookshelf.
Overall, didn’t go to Art Therapy, traditional art class stressed me out and I’m still scrubbing off paint. Yet I did learn that at the end of it all I am the type of person to still give it my best college try even if I’m not perfect at it and not fully loving it. Last week I learned that sometimes walking away is better for you than staying and being frustrated. Today I learned that staying and trying was the right thing for me. Go with your gut, your instincts and let them guide you. If it means something to you, you will work harder at it.
Ended up being a form of Art Therapy after all. And besides anyone who sees it and says, ‘ what are those red blobs suppose to be?’ I can always blame it on the lady who knocked over the table…bonus.