Saturday, 23 November 2013

I Don't Know Why It Mattered

Totally Forgot There Was A Chalk Art Festival This Weekend by foundimagination
I'm really loving the pastel crayons I randomly got a few weeks ago.

Not saying that I love everything I do, but I find when I do something I like and it's in the pastels, the colours are great.

Doing this art every day has reminded me how much I enjoy it, and it's also reminded me of the art classes I took in high school.

Specifically, this one moment where my Grade 10 art teacher grumpily told me I was the messiest artist he'd ever seen.

I no longer remember what he was referring to, but I do smudge things with the side of my hand, get thumb prints where they shouldn't be, and it doesn't particularly bother me anymore.  If it ever did.  But it bothered my art teacher and I remember being hurt by his comment.

I wanted to be good.  I wanted complements.  Encouragement.  Maybe even help, guidance.  But all I remember is his anger/frustration with me.  And I maybe thought he hated me because of it.

I don't think at the time I had enough perspective to think maybe he was having a bad day/week/month, or if the students that block had annoyed him or anything other than he was telling me I was a bad artist in some way and it's stuck with me ever since.

I doubt he even remembers saying it.  Or me at all, and I'm fairly certain he didn't mean it to be a comment that stuck with me for so long, but it did.

So, I'm kind of a messy artist. 

I'm ok with that.

Even if no one else is.


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