I went to my art class today. Wow, I looked at my old sketches and they dated back to 91, almost 20 yrs. Here I am walking back to class. I excitedly bought my supplies and then walked six blocks through the crisp bitter winter air. The class was made up of all ages. I was disappointed that and hour and a half was dedicated to tips, how to's and what-not-to-do and the last half hour was spent drawing circles. I knew that going back to art was to start and back to basics. I knew that I needed to start over since my hand would tremble every time I would get a pencil or any drawing tool in my hand. So, the class was necessary.
Although I wasn't too fond of listening the teacher speak for so long, I held steadfast to the hope of drawing soon. It was hard to even keep my eyes awake. As the teacher spoke, I did have an interesting reflection. My mind was distracted to the suggestions of the vine charcoal pencils versus compressed, whether the bendable eraser was preferable to the regular hard white one and so forth. I thought so this is to think about something other than writing a package, or figuring how to get the next event up and running, or the next proposal to write. I actually had a mental respite from reading and writing for the demands of work, not even for my own writing pleasure. My mind was not thinking about a deadline or who I had to write next or what kind of chart I needed to create. I was actually blank when the teacher's voice would fade away and all I could think of was picking up that medium and doing something on the paper. I was anxious to get started but my mind was at rest. I felt at peace. Then, I remembered that was the whole purpose of this class was to take my mind away, open my creativity and to go back to things or hobbies I had once enjoyed.
Our assignment for the next week is to continue drawing circles something to the effect that Michaelangelo said an artist had to be able to draw a perfect circle. So, I walked back to my car contemplating a week's worth of drawing circles. I still felt elated and happy just walking down the street by myself carrying my sketch book. As people walked by me, I thought "do they think I'm an artist?" How grand would that be! Even grander was my delight to finally finally have done something that I had wanted to do for so long. I couldn't believe I had just done it. I tore down the wall of doubt and excuses that I have built around my self for long.
I'm reading a book called "The Artist's Way,' a self help book about rediscovering one's creativity. I don't know if this is the year of my rediscovery - reading, writing, doing things I enjoy more...is this a culmination of hidden talents that had just scratched the surface and were just bursting to emerge? It is gratifying to be able to evolve more, to at least try to dig deeper of who I am and what I have been wanted to be for so long. Two decades and three children afterward, I am seeking realization. I am seeking more but for real this time; I'm not just thinking about doing something. I am really doing it. I'm doing things. Whether they lead to something new, it doesn't matter. I did. I made a full circle. I'm going back to where I started. And so the pursuit to make a perfect circle begins.
