So... I have a confession to make. I not only suck at art, I once received... a pity pass. in Grade 7. for art. yes, I am that bad. I couldn't draw a human body to scale for my life. As a result, I never picked up a paintbrush or pastels again. I mean, why try at something I'm going to fail anyway, right? I have since relegated myself to colouring books (I kid you not) and the brown paper table coverings at restaurants. This is all well and good... until you have a creative itch you just can't scratch. I really want to
paint.
Photography, writing, spreadsheets... nothing quite relieves it. Finally, after years of ignoring the urges, I broke down and bought myself paint and vases upon which I would unleash all my horrible, terrible non-talents. You can see from the first one, that it was a dark and swirling mass of garbage. The second one, I decided, would be different, clever. Quoting Amelie, I wrote "
Sans toi, les émotions d'aujourd hui ne seraient que la peau morte des émotions d'autrefois"- I was speaking to my newfound crush: forgiving cold ceramic. By the time I hit the third vase, I longer cared about Mrs. H and her insistent "F" or about people saying "honey, you just don't have the talent" or even about
messing up and making the vase uglier than when it started. There they are. Transformed from plain janes into something with a little character. Are they perfect? Hell no. But they're
mine. Hello art... nice to see you again after all these years.
So... I have a confession to make. I not only suck at art, I once received... a pity pass. in Grade 7. for art. yes, I am that bad. I couldn't draw a human body to scale for my life. As a result, I never picked up a paintbrush or pastels again. I mean, why try at something I'm going to fail anyway, right? I have since relegated myself to colouring books (I kid you not) and the brown paper table coverings at restaurants. This is all well and good... until you have a creative itch you just can't scratch. I really want to paint.
Photography, writing, spreadsheets... nothing quite relieves it. Finally, after years of ignoring the urges, I broke down and bought myself paint and vases upon which I would unleash all my horrible, terrible non-talents. You can see from the first one, that it was a dark and swirling mass of garbage. The second one, I decided, would be different, clever. Quoting Amelie, I wrote "Sans toi, les émotions d'aujourd hui ne seraient que la peau morte des émotions d'autrefois"- I was speaking to my newfound crush: forgiving cold ceramic. By the time I hit the third vase, I longer cared about Mrs. H and her insistent "F" or about people saying "honey, you just don't have the talent" or even about 
messing up and making the vase uglier than when it started. There they are. Transformed from plain janes into something with a little character. Are they perfect? Hell no. But they're mine. Hello art... nice to see you again after all these years.
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