But, perhaps I should go back to the beginning so you better understand how I got to here.
10 years; it seems like it has gone by in an instant when I look back on it. When I was younger, there was no talent or drive to draw, paint or sculpt. I hit middle school and was thrust into a magnet arts program and I recall only being interested in drama, dance, music, and getting out of P.E. for the next 3 years. Unfortunately, we were required to take courses in all four of the fine arts mediums. I detested it at first. Although, after my first few class projects, I became more comfortable and at ease with it. I had an amazing art teacher, who encouraged everyone to do their best.
I was a fairly quiet but sociable kid. Slightly awkward, like everyone else (even if they didn't admit it). I remember my first self portrait was put on exhibit and my Mom was invited to view it. Never will I forget the words that came out of my Mom's mouth to my art teacher, "Who knew she could even draw, much less paint?!?". Thanks, Mom.
After that, I had a fair amount of drive to practice. I remember coming home and staying up late watching movies and pausing the VCR so I could practice sketching people in my sketchbook. I was drawn (no pun intended) to faces. I found them to be quite fascinating. Everyone has a unique attribute and I liked trying to capture it, however, since I was in my awkward pre-teens, my work always slightly reflected my own self confidence issues. I drew everything exactly as I saw it; sometimes it made people look sad, old, withered, tired, etc. I even had another art teacher tell me I should draw things in a more flattering light. I responded with, "I draw things as I see them."
I wasn't very popular with him.
Three years down, and on to high school. I applied for the magnet high school for drama and the art program. I made it in for drama, but not art. I was crushed. Of course, I was stubborn too. I chose to go to a brand new school out in the middle of nowhere, rather than going to a school for a program I didn't really care that much about.
So, this awkward and shaved head girl went out into the scary unknown. I was at a new school with no friends and had to start all over. Having a shaved head and being a bit of a freak didn't exactly make it easy. Basically, let's just say I became familiar with the term "lesbian" whispered as I walked by.
I did, however, begin to make friends with some of the other artsy freaks. I do, however, recall my Mom dragging me into the Guidance Counselor's office (not making me very popular with that office either) during the first week of school to switch me out of all the "Intro" art classes due to the fact that I was already accelerated beyond that level.
Dark Stalkers Sketch
I guess I should back up a few steps and explain how I spent my summer that year...
Nina Conner. My Mom decided since I was so bummed about the school situation, that she would find a private teacher. I met Nina at the old Arcade Theatre in downtown Fort Myers. She gave me homework the first day; a list of supplies I would need, and a sketched drawing of something that interested me. I was to bring the original item and the sketch back, along with my supplies the following week. I chose a Creedence Clearwater Revival record album that belonged to my Mom. It was one of her favorites. I worked diligently to get it just right and my Mom covered the supplies.
I was all set for that next week. I even had my copy of Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain, which had become mighty tattered at this point.
Next week we got right into it. I was to select a subject (a person of course) and begin sketching a rough idea on my canvas, which I did. Now, I got to wrap my little fingers around a brush and begin painting my first oil painting. It was probably one of the most joyous experiences ever. I had a new passion; oils.
The subject of choice; Don Juan DeMarco's Soundtrack Cover
I don't think I could ever forget that experiential summer with Nina Conner.
Back to the high school story...
So, yeah, now I am in all upperclassmen courses, and I start to make friends with them. By my tenth grade year, most of my friends had graduated or were in the process of graduating, so those options were becoming slightly nil. As I began to take more advanced courses, they had to stick me in Intro classes (since I was only with 3 other students in the same predicament) and shuffled to the back storage area to work on individual projects and our AP Portfolios for presentation. Since the school did not have the resources for oil paints, I had to bring in all my own materials (lame, I know).
My second oil ever; Dark Horse Comic's 'Ghost'
Regardless, by my senior year, I was able to present my, as my favorite high school art teacher would say, "very kitsch", style portfolio, which included antique jewelry, paintings, mixed-media collages, and sculptures. One thing I do remember quite vividly was the fact that most of the class was fairly speechless when it came time for critiques. Even people who were, technically, much better artists, they were all at a loss for the amount of time and effort and originality my body of work showed. I would say it was one of my proudest moments.
After high school, life happens...
We all make choices and we all live with the choices we make. I began working, having a social life, dating, getting married, having a baby, getting a divorce, working more, taking care of my child, dating again, being in a bad relationship, going to school, getting out of a bad relationship, working even more, becoming even more active with my kid, and probably a hundred more excuses along the way...
The end result is still the same.
10 years, and finally, the brush is going to be picked up again....
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