Compost Studios

I was a communications major, and my senior year in university, I was required to take art appreciation, studio art,  black and white photography, and publication layout and design. I had never taken an art class in my life and was surprised how much I liked studying the visual arts.

I became a regular at museums and galleries and noticed design and photography wherever I went.  I had a good eye, had studied composition and color theory, but I lacked basic skills and never did anything artistic at home. I longed to be an artist but couldn't see a way of making that happen.

Fifteen years passed.

When my life took an unexpected turn and I became an expat, I began to dabble in rubber stamping, card making, scrapbooking--more crafts than art.  A small step in the right direction. Less than two years later, when I crossed the line into art journaling and collage and began mixing media, I slowly started to consider myself an artist.  No, not an Artist, just an artist--someone who didn't claim to be "good" at art but who made it anyway.

I gave myself permission to be mediocre, knowing that the only way to become better was to accept that I had a lot to learn. Yeah, I knew I was starting late in life, but so what? The only things keeping me from being a better artist were the voices in my head saying, "You don't have a talent for this" and "It's a waste of time."

The truth is that few people have "natural" talent. Most successful people in any field have a passion for what they do, and this makes them work harder and longer than everyone else. If I enjoy making art, it's worth my time. I used to be a person obsessed with perfection. It brought me lots of recognition and awards but not a lot of happiness. Midlife has brought me to a wonderful place where I'm all about process and not about product.

While living in Belgium, I signed up for art classes more than once but every time something blocked my path. Classes were cancelled because not enough people were participating, another had to be re-scheduled and the new schedule didn't work for me.  Lacking formal instruction, I muddled along, often feeling  thwarted in my attempts to advance my skills. I got books on mixed media and started reading art blogs, picking up info and inspiration wherever I could find it.

After moving back to America in late March, I made signing up for classes a priority. My first class met Thursday, a beginning class in watercolor taught by a well known regional artist. We were told to bring "whatever watercolor supplies we had on hand."  I expected what I had was fine, that there would be about ten people in the class, and that everyone would be a true beginner like me.

When I showed up, I walked into a room with more than 25 people in it. About 75 percent of them had degrees in art or art education or were members of art guilds and exhibited their work. They walked in with impressive supplies and big "art boards" to clip their paper to. I pulled out my inexpensive brushes and pigments, my Wal-Mart palette and puny pad of 9 x 12 inch, 120 lb. paper and had a nice big slice of humble pie! 

I learned that good watercolor paper costs about $4 a sheet, that a mid-range brush would cost $25-$50 each, that I should expect to spend several dollars per tube for the least expensive acceptable quality watercolors. And that yes I needed an art board to paint.  Who knew? No problem, I could upgrade my supplies a bit.

As I listened to many of my classmates talk about their frustration with painting, their inability to "control" the media, their concerns about the quality of their work, their multiple fears and questions over our assignment ("Sketch? We have to sketch? On what kind of paper? With what sort of pencil? What should I sketch? How do you want it?"), I realized that despite my inexperience and crappy supplies, I had a big advantage over them.

I didn't care about the "correct" pencil or my lack of drawing skill. I wasn't worried about choosing the perfect subject for my first watercolor. I wouldn't agonize over composition. I wasn't going to become intimidated by the level of skill in the room.

I was there to learn, to make art, to have a good time, and not to fret over all I didn't know or have. After all, anything I pick up in this class will be more than I knew before.

Maybe I'm in over my head.

Maybe I'll be embarrassed.

Or maybe I'll discover that my lack of fear will take me places a $50 brush can't.

May 30, 2008