Giving myself a gift.

I got myself a gift today. I signed up for an oil painting class offered by our local community college. It was hard to do it. It’s hard to spend money on myself when there are always diapers and milk to buy, a refrigerator that is slowly falling apart (but still cools food just fine), and a ridiculous electric bill. We’re basically doing OK, though. And I need this 2-1/2 hours one evening a week. My brain is full of Dora the Marketing Genius, oops, I mean Explorer, and unwashed dishes. I need something for me, for my own soul.  

I’m surprisingly nervous, though the class description says it’s for beginners and you don’t even need to draw well (I can actually draw decently). I’ve always wanted to learn oils, but I never got around to doing anything with it. It’s been years since I painted. It’s been years since I drew anything seriously, in fact. I wonder what I’ll come up with?

I really love art, I so wish I had followed my heart and gone to school for it back when I had the shot. I wish I had never listened to anyone else, I wish I had not cared about the silly materialism of the 80’s. It didn’t work out that way for me anyway, why didn’t I just do what I wanted to instead of majoring in…business? Yawn. No wonder I was so quick to drop out of college.

But it’s not too late for me to rediscover art. I can still paint things I enjoy. Maybe it will inspire me to do more with my artistic side. Perhaps I can write AND illustrate children’s books. How wonderful that would be. But I don’t need to have that happen. Just starting this is enough.

At the very least, I can use the painting as self-directed therapy. I find it soothing. Peaceful. I’m not shooting for the Louvre, here, so it doesn’t matter if I suck, if I’m unoriginal, if I can only paint weirdly out of proportion pictures of fruit.

Art runs in my family, after all. My mother painted for years, and now does lovely quilts. My cousin P actually did go to school for art, and won several competitions. And may I brag a little? K has been accepted to a prestigious local school for the arts. She is far beyond my level already, I suspect she will find her niche in the art world.

It is a delicious little bonus that I will be able to talk about art with her, and actually be doing it myself. At the same time, I think it’s essential to me, to my growth as a person, as a parent and a wife that I do something enriching to me, just me, only me, with intangible benefits that aren’t measured in savings at Costco on Huggies. I want to see what comes out of that brush tip with a little instruction on technique and some encouragement. I want to know what’s in there. I “see” so many pictures in my mind, I’ve had an idea for an angel series (not the sickly sweet images one might think, thank you, my vision is somewhat darker) for years. Can I do it? Can I make those images come to life on canvas, and make them match what I see in my mind’s eye? What else can I do?

And if I end up with a 30 X 30 canvas of a rather lumpy-looking Dora for my son’s room and one or two weird fruit still lifes, that’s OK too.