This really makes me squirm

After being a blocked artist for more than 20 years. . . I am forcing myself to paint.

In many ways, I live art. I am art. I wear art, I cook art, I nurture my children as art. I have made a great living for many years by creating design that I would consider art - but the kind of thing most people would call art - paint on a canvas or other traditional mediums - scare the hell out of me.

When I was a young girl art oozed out of me. I always had crayons and paint and fabric and paper and wood and whatever else I could lay my hands on, and created things with great energy. Our house was filled with art and talk of art. It wasn't until I got to college that I had my first collision with people that didn't appreciate what I did. Part of that was I didn't know how to use the mediums like most other kids my age. In high school I was a musician. I learned how to play the oboe and read music and perfected that craft. In college most of the other people in art had already learned the techniques and were then honing their skills. I was too embarrassed to ask how to paint with oils and acrylics and how to work with clay, so I muddled my way through. The other issue was that my style is totally graphic in nature. Color. Balance. My inclination to create graphic looking works was against the professors desire to churn out artists that worked traditionally. I had one watercolor teacher that would continually take my paintings off the wall before she'd begin the critique. She said my art was too commercial, and not worthy of critique. She would walk up to my work, take it and place it face down on the table, and then say "There. Now we can begin."

I refused to give in, and continued to paint whatever I wanted to paint. Inspired by Paul Klee. Not anywhere near her comfort zone.

Close to the end of my degree (which stretched for many years) (long story. it postponed student loan payments) I took the required watercolor class, which only she taught. At the end of the semester when I turned in my portfolio full of work, she wrote a note that said "I can only grade this portfolio if you include a landscape or a still life."

I went home in tears, unsure what to do. I refused to give in. I didn't paint things like the other students. I definitely didn't paint things like her star pupils. But - watercolor class was a requirement to graduate and would fail if I didn't do what she asked.

One of my roommates, a talented artist in every media, insisted that I had to do the painting and re-hand in my portfolio for critique. I had no idea where to start, so that friend threw a vase up in our window, added a single flower, and in a heartbeat did a lovely little watercolor for me. She was so talented that she was able to paint in a style that would be comparable to what I'd have done, if I knew that traditional technique.

I turned in my portfolio with her painting on top of my stack, and I received a C for the final grade.

But - I haven't painted since. I'm still deathly afraid of watercolor and its random ways. It seems unable to be contained, and I can't imagine even trying. As part of a process I'm working on for myself though, I recently decided to slay the dragon in some form. I've begun a couple of tiny acrylic paintings. One was promised to my niece Heidi before I even started it, and the other is for my husband, who has fallen in love with the painting from the minute it was begun. I can't believe I have people who would be interested in having my paintings!

I don't really even care what they do with them. I've thrown lots of art away before, and that wouldn't kill me. Mark has said his painting is going in his office, and with that thought I'm thrilled! This process makes me feel so naked and so exposed, but I am going forth even though I feel so vulnerable. I've learned that putting myself "out there" when I feel insecure is the best way to help myself grow. I'm finally learning to ignore the perfectionist in me and I'm willing to accept whatever comes out. I'm growing. I'm trying.

And so, as much as this act fills me with anxiety, I am posting my UNFINISHED paintings here. They're not perfect. . . but they're okay! In fact, they're just fine. . . and some people LIKE THEM!
ahhhhh.