When Ink Kicks Your Butt

Returning to art is a gift I cherish so much. Leaving art was not a conscious decision. I simply could not/did not consciously choose to continue.

The result is that I returned to art as a formal learner in my 40s. I studied outside of class, completely valued my faculty as people who knew way more than I did, and intentionally chose to get better when things were difficult for me.

Here's my best example of intentional improvement. An assignment in Drawing 1 was to use ink to draw a still life of cardboard boxes. Voila!

It is not good. The mark making and values make no real sense. I had no control over the watery mess I drizzled over the paper. It was agonizing to create and embarrassing to look at. Ink was kicking my butt.

Yet, I need to keep this piece. It's where I started. Well, it's certainly where I started to choose to get better at a medium that exposed me. The frustration I felt from ink fueled me rather than discouraged me, though. I sat there, exposed, and kicked back. Actually, I practiced A LOT! There were really no risks to working on this atrocious mess--except to my pride for a short while. And the results of improving are so satisfying.

Improving in ink ultimately allowed me to jump into other media with greater abandon and joy than I would have done without that initial pummeling. I was surrounded by others who were also new and struggling on their own paths. We created next to each other, laughed at our inexperience, and offered support and needed feedback. We listened to Pandora, drank coffee (well, I did), and created because it's a good thing to do even when it's a mess.