In Grade 8 I took art from Mr. McMaster at Sir Winston Churchill School. It was the first time I had been exposed to a dedicated art class. I had black paper and white paint. I remember painting sticks and bare trees and bull rushes in a pond. I was so proud that what was in my mind’s eye was now on that black paper. I can remember thinking about perspective and design. I had learned something that year.
I could always copy draw, there were drawing books and sketch books, I can remember copying simple line drawings.
At the end of Grade 8 I had my appendix out. When we went to the school to collect my things because the year had ended without me, my art was gone. Mr. McMaster had discarded it not knowing I was returning to get it. It hurt and I was disappointed.
I can knit and sew. I take photographs and manipulate them into what I see. I used to take piano lessons. I have a rudimentary knowledge of how to dye wool and can spin with a drop spindle.
I cook and keep a nice home.
Sometimes I paint, and not just on the iPad. The key to painting is using layesrs of colour to create light, shadow and form.
I believe my creative life was reawakened when I married a creative man. I have learned to dream and keep trying. I seem to be anxious to learn more all the time. What I find difficult to retain is that a creative mind and life is a practice. It is really about doing and trying and patience.
What I do does not have to be permanent nor perfect the first time.
The first try is the idea, the groundwork.
These are things I need to remember.