When I was in school, Art was always my least favourite subject. As a student, I was always up for a challenge, but there was something about the art class that always made me cringe. I guess I should clarify, I am referring specifically to the visual arts (drawing, painting, pottery etc.) as I have been and always will be a drama kid; as for music, I cannot play an instrument to save my life…
What always stressed me out about art class was the expectations. The balance of mastering the techniques while also adding your own creative flair to whatever art piece you were working on, always made art class very stressful for me. Getting good grades was always important to me, yes, I was a nerd that way, so while most people felt relaxed and excited about art class, I was dreading it.
Anyone who knows me knows that confidence is not something that I lack. Yet, I was never confident in my artistic abilities, most specifically with drawing and painting. I was relieved that I never had to take another art class in my life after Grade 9, but then I reached the final year in my Concurrent Education program at Nipissing, and I was required to take Art as one of my teachable subjects (yay for choosing the elementary stream!) – such sarcasm…
Once again, I found myself faced with the stress and nervousness I felt in school during art class. I didn’t feel my skills were up to par, and if I couldn’t produce a good sample of art, how would I ever teach the skills and techniques? That art class in Nipissing was truly dreadful for me, especially because our final assignment was to design a portfolio showcasing a variety of different mediums and skills learned throughout the semester. The only project I took any pride in was an Art Integration Assignment, where we had to create a piece of art that blended two sections of the curriculum together. My friend and I chose Art & Grade 7 Geography and created this Model of the Nile River. Truth be told, the only reason I was happy with it was that I myself had done the exact same project when I was in Grade 7, so I already had an idea of how it was going to turn out; I had already done all the trial and error stuff when I was a kid…is that considered cheating?
Long story short, I didn’t fail the class, and actually ended up with a very decent mark, but I was still so glad it was over and I would hopefully never have to do art ever again…until December 2012.
Remember when there was that whole thing about the world ending in 2012? Well, my friends and I had an “It’s the End of 2012, Not the End of the World” party, and my friend thought it would be cool to paint and make t-shirts. Sounds fun right? Well, once again, all these horrible memories of trying to perfect techniques and get your brush strokes just right came flooding over me. I realize as I write this that I am sounding very much like a perfectionist, and a tad dramatic, but this is honestly how much I detested art. Anyway, I went along with it, but you better believe I complained the whole time.
The night was fun, but not because of the art. After this, my one friend, in particular, continued to tease me about how whiny I was about “art class” and that one day I would learn to enjoy making art. He might read this, and he already knows, but he was right. In years to come, I would grow to really like art, and here’s how that happened.
In Summer 2014 I worked a Summer Camp and we had the opportunity to take the kids on many field trips throughout the summer. One of the trips was to Creative Cafe in Barrie. If you don’t know what Creative Cafe is, look it up, it’s amazing. Here, the students got to experiment with painting their own pottery pieces. Seeing how excited and creative the kids were getting really got me thinking. Most of the kids were really excited about designing the colours and patterns and were quite polite and encouraging to each other about how cool their designs looked. It was touching to see how much fun they were having and it really hit me: that was how art was supposed to be.
It would still be a few years before I really gave art a chance. In early 2017, I partook in one of those Paint Nite events in town. I truly had mixed emotions about the whole thing. What I did not know about Paint Nite before agreeing to sign up was that the painting was predetermined depending on the night you chose; I felt that I could do a pretty good job if it was a landscape or something without a face or too much detail. You better believe the painting that night was an owl, so I really was being tested here. I sat down in front of my easel and tried my best to remember that this was all for fun and everyone’s painting would look a little different, and that was okay. It was more than okay. That was the whole point. As the teacher went through the steps and did her best to explain how to achieve certain brush strokes or how to properly mix the colours together to get the right shades, I found myself getting less and less excited and more and more nervous. It was happening again, I was being far too hard on myself trying to achieve such a perfect piece of art. It was a shitty feeling. I was supposed to be having fun with my friends!
When I got home that night, my husband asked me how it went and if I was happy with my painting. Right away I was very hard on myself. I started to laugh and I said, “Well, it’s not horrible, but it’s not really that great.” I reluctantly turned the canvas over to show him. As he glanced at it, it felt like minutes went by before he said anything (it was really about 3-5 seconds). Confused, he looked at me and said, “What’s wrong with it? I like it. He’s got a lot of fur to keep him warm. He’s a snow owl isn’t he?” I couldn’t help but laugh. My husband is always very supportive, wonderful, and truthful. If something didn’t look right, he would say it. I wanted to believe him that it was actually a nice painting, but I still had my doubts. I set it down on the table to finish drying and told him that I would think of a place to put it in the next few days.
The next day I went to work. When I came home that night, I opened the front door and when I stepped inside my foyer, I noticed something new hanging on the wall. My husband greeted me and had the cutest little smirk on his face. I looked at the wall and looked at him. “You hung up my painting?” I asked him with much joy (and some confusion) in my voice. He replied, “Of course. Art is supposed to be hung on the wall. Besides, I really like this.” It was one of the best compliments I had ever been given in my whole life. I was hit with many feelings at that moment. It occurred to me that I was so critical on my skills when I absolutely had no reason to be. The grading process of art was over, it was time to just roll with it and have fun. There was much fun to be had.
Eventually, I returned to Creative Cafe and tested out my skills with pottery. Pottery led to mosaics, and mosaics led to more paintings. Over time (and with each new art project) art was enjoyable. Art was fun. Art was relaxing and peaceful; it allowed me to be calm and just enjoy the steps and process at my own pace. It was a long journey, but I am very glad that it ended up here. Most importantly, I was reminded not to take myself too seriously and enjoy the little things. These were things I already thought that knew, and I did, just not when it came to art!
Five Feet High Thoughts 