There is a secret dream I’ve been keeping for years tucked away deep in the furthest corner of my mind, that special place where our imagination runs wild and where we allow ourselves be anything we ever wanted. I would not dare to share this dream with anyone. Not with my family. Not with my friends. Not even with my dearest husband Joe. It all changed this week.
But … let me start from the very beginning.
I liked to draw when I was little and I could easily spend several hours straight preoccupied with coloring books and crayons. Eventually reading took over and my focus shifted. I did always want to learn how to draw but was not lucky with my art teachers. Now that I think about it, I can’t even remember any of them, except for one.
With his cold prickly eyes, thick beard and mean look my Middle School Art teacher reminded me of Rasputin. He was missing his left arm which he lost under unknown circumstances. As far as drawing went, this man was a genius. To this day I remember paintings on the walls of his studio. They were his “babies”, his masterpieces, the most beautiful paintings I’ve ever seen outside of museums and art galleries.
He had a gift from God, that special spark that could have turned him into one of the greatest artists of his time. But he also had an evil streak in him, which, now thinking back was likely what prevented his talent from shining through.
It was obvious to all of us, kids that he hated his job of teaching and he hated us. Although not physically abusive, he was what you would call a bully and I remember all of the kids being absolutely terrified of him. I don’t remember him actually teaching us anything. He would put together a still life on a desk and make us draw for an hour. Then he would walk around the classroom and pick on our drawings one after another. He would make sarcastic comments and jokes, and he would never give anyone more than a "B". No one could ever be good enough for him no matter how hard one tried.
He was teaching us for a little over a year before his life ended tragically. I remember teachers whispering in the hallways that he was driving late at night from St Petersburg to Tallinn and lost control of his car on an icy road. I don’t think there was a kid at school who was mourning him.
A few months later some faceless teacher took his place but at that point the damage was done. I was told too many times I was not good enough and that I didn’t have what it took . I believed it and this conviction got deeply rooted in my mind. More so, I developed such a strong aversion to art classes that it took all the willpower I could master to get through them during the rest of my Middle School years. I vowed to never pick up brushes again.
As I grew up and memories of Middle School years started to vanish, so did my aversion to drawing. Every once in a while I would toy with this idea of taking classes and learning how to draw. Often times, when my breath is taken away by a magnificent scenery I wish I could draw. I wish I could share the world as I see it through my paintings. This dream was one of those dreams that I am sure each of us has. You know the feeling: it's like a volcano, on and off, perculating on some days and asleep on others but it is always there and you know that some day it will eventually erupt.
And it all happened last weekend. On a whim I went to Michael's Art Store to look around and see whether I would get inspired by anything in particular: sewing or knitting maybe.. When I walked into the aisle where they have all the drawing supplies, I knew that was it. I found a great book on sketching for beginners, bought a set of pencils, some paper and hurried home with my loot.
Next I cleaned out the room that was supposed to be Joe's office and turned it into my studio and for the past 3 nights I’ve been sketching. In order to track and share my progress, I decided to start this blog. My goal is to see whether it is indeed possible to self-learn how to draw or how far one can get without enlisting help of art instructors.
Lastly, I will be truthful and say that I am terrified of taking this plunge. I am afraid of failure, I am afraid of not sticking to my commitment to write this blog. I am scared of sharing my work with the public but I am even more afraid to never try. I can't live my life always wondering What if... There may never be another chance and another day.
With that, I will press the "Publish Post" button so there is no turning back.
