life long learning

Spoiler Alert: This post has nothing to do with knitting.

A few nights ago a group of four of us joined about twenty other budding artists at Posh Splat, Boulder’s local paint and wine studio.

Back in my formative school years, I took a lot of art classes and briefly considered it as a vocation. Forty-some years later, my youthful dreams have yet to be realized. So, as you might imagine, I was delighted for the opportunity to try my hand at painting.

At Posh Splat, each “artist” is given a blank 16″ x 20″ (40.5 x 51 cm) canvas, three paintbrushes, and a squirt each of seven colors (blue, red, yellow, green, brown, black, and white). An instructor leads the class in choosing the right brushes, mixing the appropriate colors, and making the correct brush strokes, all while giving encouragement (and serving wine to help the creative juices flow).

The painting of the night was Vincent Van Gogh’s 1888 painting Cafe Terrace At Night (shown at left below). Instead of following the actual masterpiece (which would have been paralyzingly intimidating), we followed a much simplified version with fewer buildings and without the human forms (that’s my attempt on the right).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Needless to say, I think I was wise to stick to my knitting!

Without revealing my actual age, I will admit that I clearly remember where I was when I learned that John F. Kennedy was shot. Ever since then I’ve wanted to learn to draw. Although I took a variety of art classes in middle and high school, I never took a drawing class. By the time I was in college, I fancied myself a scientist and focused on calculus, physics, chemistry, and geology. I would never say it was a waste of time, but my college education seems to have little relation to my current career as a knitter, editor, and designer.

To encourage me to fulfill a decades-old dream, my dear husband gave me a drawing pad and set of pencils for my birthday last fall. They’ve been sitting on my desk ever since, silently taunting me.

I kept looking at the them, imagining how impressive I might be in my next class when I’d draw a sock or sweater silhouette that had proper proportions. I imagined how I’d capture the likeness of my cat Lily on paper. And, oh, what if I could make realistic sketches of sweater design ideas?

I kept myself entertained just thinking about the possibilities without ever opening the sketch pad.

 

 

Finally, I decided to act and I sketched three objects on my desk–a Sharpie marker, my cell phone, and a small wooden bowl that holds dietary supplements. The results were less than spectacular. My timid approach is evident in the faint and shaky lines. I closed the notebook and returned to my knitting.

 

A couple of months ago I revealed my secret desire to my Sunday knitting group, which consists of several “real” artists.  They heartily recommended You Can Draw in 30 Days by Mark Kistler. Mysteriously, the book appeared in my mailbox.

I was both thrilled and terrified. Could I possibly learn to draw in 30 days? The author insists that “anyone can learn how to draw; it is a learnable skill like reading or writing”.  I don’t have lofty expectations, but I will say that after just two lessons, I managed to draw a couple of tennis balls that look like, well, tennis balls!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Only time will tell if I can learn to draw. For now, I’m excited by the possibility. If I’m successful, I may tackle another dream — painting!