I cried over a sketch.

This weekend and start to the week has not been my greatest, creative to mood ratio wise. I have avoided sketching over my lunch break, and at home in favour of good tv backlog, I’ve been steadily avoiding an oil painting that I fear might go unfinished if I overlook it any longer. Oh yeah. And at art class… i cried over my inability to apply myself when measuring out the parts of my subject. Im pretty sure Bob now thinks I am a weeny (but he told me that I was being too hard on myself… so perhaps he might forget about it, and has seen other people cry over less in his studio?) — It really revealed to me just how much I care about becoming a good artist (not just an okay one, but one who has to put effort and skill into what they are doing, one who composes! one who toils… one who has vision and requires mastery to accomplish that vision….. )

To recount the events leading up to my tears….

I went to my usual saturday class with Bob, and for the 2nd week in a row, I have been sitting in front of this gawdawful bunny rabbit — Bob’s rite of passage piece, as it would seem (a few people in the class shook their head at me when seeing what I was drawing, and actually offered me their condolences…like actually)

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Everyone at this point in Bob’s curriculum must draw the exact likeness of the above awful hell demon bunny….. . I tried last week, I did poorly. But I wasn’t upset…yet

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bunny of horrors

I left class that week confident that it was just an issue of being focused, and that I would try the next week, and force myself to concentrate.

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even more horrific bunny of shame…

and then next week came, and I tried again, and it started out okay…. it got increasingly worse as the 2 hour class wore on. I started out drawing the simple shapes from large to small, adjusting, cleaning it up, plumb lines, mirror, standing back…. but then when I got into the measuring … everything came crashing down around me…… measuring is a dirty word. It makes me upset, because I was such a math-o-phobic child and teenager. I know now that it wasn’t the drawing that was bothering me… it was the negative self talk that was getting to me… saying “I can’t measure, I shouldn’t try to measure, if I measure I will get it wrong because I am bad at measuring….I must find an alternative to this measuring issue etc”

and then I proceeded to cry in front of Bob, as he showed me once more, how to properly measure…. ugh. I was wiping my wet little nose along my sleeve like a toddler …. At least I know in hindsight what it is that is getting in my way now. Art is more therapeutic than I realized.

If I can show my face at Bob’s studio again, I will need to try hard to ignore my anxiety. Play it down in my head and see the drawing for what it is… (It is just a sketch Kara, not rocket science, and measuring isn’t so hard when you stop drudging up the past and all that you associate with math and measuring and teachers and learning and miles upon minutes and years upon yards of wasted moments thinking about what is behind you (I had some pretty bad teachers growing up, and Bob is not a bad teacher).

Moving on…. next week, I will ask Bob if I can draw a complicated shape that is not the bunny (with its ridiculous taunting buck toothy smile)

And what is on my easel this week, you ask?

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a beautiful bouquet of flowers my mom sent me for my birthday

(that I didn’t bother measuring…. )

 

 

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