I can kind of draw sometimes

photo

 

Kind of.

Sometimes.

The photo above is of a drawing I actually started in the fall of LAST year and, as you can tell, still have not finished. Partly because I haven’t had time, and partly because it was a little more challenging and scared me. But it being unfinished proves that I did in fact draw it, which is kind of cool (but that could also just me me trying to cover up my laziness).

I’m not going to go on too much about my feelings about art, because I have a lot of feels and that would take forever. But this is a part of me that I don’t think I share enough, so I’m sharing.

I have a very artsy family. My mother is an art teacher/artist on the side, and my father is in graphic design. I grew up with all the craft supplies in the world, as well as what I am certain to be a hereditary knack for art. Though believe me, I haven’t always been able to draw like this. I’ve taken every art class public school has offered, and even some extra classes on the side. I am constantly drawing or painting, and I’ve practiced and practiced to get to where I am. I’ve always been considered very good for my age level, but I look back at art I did in grade seven when I thought I was the bees knees and think, what the heck was I thinking? Actually, I look back at art I did last year and think the same thing. I always say that the my last piece of art is my best piece of art, because I improve with each thing I do.

On that note, I will never stop thinking that I can always improve. I say “kind of sometimes” because yes, I think I am good, but no, I do not think I am the best. I have a lot of artistic talent that I am pleased with, but I pale in comparison to the likes of Monet and Pollock. Heck, I even wish I could draw like my mom. That woman is talented. I’m not trying to knock my abilities; I’m saying that you shouldn’t praise me any more than I praise myself, because the moment when I think I am the best of the best is the moment when I stop learning and improving, and then I may as well quit because what’s the point?

Anyway, I adore art. I live for drawing and painting. I almost faint when I walk past an art supply store. I could spent hours in galleries. For me, art is a very cathartic and calming experience. Whenever I draw or paint or sculpt I feel so much, but am also put into a trance. I am strongly of the opinion that art is about the process, not the product. When I look at a painting, I think of what must have gone into actually creating it. I picture the artist in his or her studio, doing what they love and experiencing so many feelings. When I look at my own work, I don’t think, “wow that looks pretty good,” I get a little sad that it’s over. I don’t ever smudge and I don’t ever blend, because pencil lines form a map of how I created the drawing.

I could go on for days, but I’ll keep it short as to not draw focus from the drawing itself too much. I’m always afraid to show people my art because I don’t want to be thought of as boastful or arrogant. But it’s such a large part of my life, so I should share it more often. Because I am talented.

Kind of.

Sometimes.

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