A Messy, Dangerous Process
Yep. Tonight I begin. I was delayed slightly in this, my most recent, foray into madness. But that was a temporary setback, a mere postponement. Tonight I step into my first oil painting class with a humble, fearful heart. Nevertheless I step because my friends believe in me—so much so, they’ve funded my class fee as a birthday gift.
Yesterday evening I went to the art store and bought $200 worth of oil paints and canvas, much of which was on clearance.
OMG. That’s a lot of money for a lark, a whim, a hobby!
Yep. The voices in my head are really loud about all this, and mostly they are unkind. The harpies are out in full flight, screeching about how ridiculous is it to start this. Who am I to think I might paint? They’re dive-bombing me with doubt and scornful comments. It’s too expensive. It’s impractical. I don’t have enough time to fold all the laundry or work to earn my living, so what in the world do I think I’m doing taking a painting class?
And yet, I’m going. I’m going to try this because I’ve always, always wanted to. And because if a girl cannot find a way to fulfill a dream once in a while, what’s the point?
Both art and living share this: they are a messy, dangerous process. Might as well get messy.
July 12, 2011 at 8:38 pm
i am so happy for you that you are doing this for yourself!! good for you! looking forward to seeing your work.
July 16, 2011 at 6:08 pm
Thanks, Rae! The first class was lovely. Can’t wait for the next one.