A Midlife Adventure

Art class, 1969. Drawing pencils, paper, brushes and paint pots filled the room with an air of inspiration and expectation. I was in seventh grade, the beginning of those pivotal years in a preteen's life. I had drawn a sketch using our newly acquired skill of perspective. I was so proud! Our class was to get our drawings back that day with a grade. I just knew mine would be an A. I had put so much effort into it. My teacher began handing the papers back. On my beautiful drawing was a big red D.

My heart pounded. I felt sick. I was disappointed, angry and my spirit was crushed. I felt I was obviously a failure in art, that was all there was to it. I did very little drawing for the next 35 years.

It's interesting to me how so many of us can hear someone say something derogatory toward us, or maybe we pick up on a thoughtless, off the cuff remark that was thrown our way and wholeheartedly claim it as our own. We believe it! We allow the judgements of others to weave through our lives and affect our experiences. Why do we insist that other's opinions are more valid than our own and choose to allow them to have such an impact on our one and only life? Do we as humankind not value our own uniqueness? How could our lives have bee different if we had listened to our hearts instead?

When I turned 50 I decided to go on a midlife adventure. I went back to school. Along with my academic studies I decided to take a drawing class. This was even scarier than taking math! I walked into the airy new building that had massive windows. Once again, easels and drawing tables abounded. I felt that long ago fear of art well up in my gut. The classroom continued to fill. All but three of us were young, fresh out of high school and dressed the artist part. I felt intimidated.

Our teacher walked in. She looked okay, accessible. We started out using charcoal and enormous sheets of paper. We were to draw impressions of a landscape. We were learning how the medium responded underneath our hands. To me, mine looked like a mass of black and grey mud. At the second class we were to bring in an interesting array of items to draw. We were going to be creating a Figure Ground Shift Drawing with Motif. What this means is something I'm still not very clear on, but it has something to do with one particular shape repeating itself throughout the work, but it's not a pattern. The negative space and positive space need to be equally as interesting. Yeah, right. By the third class I ws ready to drop out. Give me math any day!

My instructor was very supportive. She wasn't teaching us a particular technique but a way of really seeing things. When I was obviously frustrated and ready to erase, she would say"No! Look at what you've got". She would then encourage me with gentle suggestions. I fell in love with the class and quit comparing my work with peers who had probably been drawing every day of their lives. This was a challenge between myself and my ego. By the end of the term I couldn't believe that I was the one actually doing the work I was turning out! I even have some hanging on my wall at home. They help remind me that I am capable of doing well whatever I put my intention and attention on.

I now enjoy drawing and choose not to spend another day of my life without some form of art. I am so thankful I had the opportunity to work with not only a gifted artist, but a gifted human being who understood people and art anxiety.

My deep soul knowledge reminds me to take the risk, trust my gut and value myself. I remember to simply let go of negative words and actions by others, especially that judge and jury of my own consciousness that's ready to condemn me before I've given myself a fair chance. I've come home to myself and remember to "Look at what you've got!"