The Art of Figuring It Out

I started painting again. I went to my first oil painting class in a long time, not really knowing what to expect. The teacher was late, not knowing she had to teach class that day. There was a septuagenarian and a tweenager there with me - both who had been painting for some time based on their familiarity with the studio and instructor. I got a basic overview and sat down with my brush and canvas to make art.

I was scared. I could barely put paint on the canvas for fear of making an unfixable mistake and not creating something beautiful and perfect and inspiring. I had a vision for my painting, but I had no idea how to make it come to life, so I moved cautiously, hardly painting anything for the 2.5 hours I paid for. In my fear of not painting something great and confusion over my clear lack of natural talent, I started peaking around at my companion's paintings. They were rich and detailed, having created impressive compositions just minutes after sitting to paint. I fell into myself. I did not want to come back.

I showed up the next week. A new teacher welcoming me in. Taking care that I had really never painted before, she sat next to me. Inquired about my vision for my painting. Inspiration struck her and she printed out some examples of what I might be going for, then gave me a technique tutorial. My world opened up. I was understood.

I consumed time. Completely engrossed. I found my own style - sloppy, bold, fun. I was flowing and created something I truly loved.

I kept coming back. Thriving in my confidence, supporting the inspiration of others, and just having fun.