Artist Revised

Almost two years ago, I walked into the beautiful International Folk Art Museum in Santa Fe, New Mexico behind my older sister who is an artist. Everywhere, bright colors, unusual shapes, and wild textures surrounded us. I felt instantly overwhelmed. I didn't know where to look or where to go. At first, I stayed close to my sister as if she could guide me through the maze of exhibits and glass cases. After a while, I sensed she didn't love my shadow, so I ventured off alone. 

Feelings of inadequacy and ignorance around art took me back to sixth grade, to when I stood in front of Mr. Trimble's tall wooden desk and handed him my pastel still-life drawing for grading. I was proud of my work. I'd tried hard and wanted his acknowledgement. I wanted to believe I was good at art too. He looked over my work, nodded, turned over the paper, and wrote an "A." 

Then he saw my name. "Are you Jenni's younger sister?" I nodded. Jenni was just one year ahead of me in school, so he knew her well.

As soon as he found out I'm her sister, with a flourish, Mr. Trimble added a plus next to the "A." Suddenly, it was Jenni's A plus, not mine. I was hurt and a little angry. I wanted a good grade because I deserved it, not because of her. 

It was the last art class I took until a required course in college. In high school, she took art classes, took private art lessons, and was the art editor of the yearbook senior year. I intentionally avoided art and took a lot of math and science classes. 

So here I was feeling lost in the folk art museum in Santa Fe. From a sign, I learned much of the art there was created by uneducated artists using materials they had on hand. Not a lot of it was realistic or perfect. Faces and limbs were out of proportion. Colors weren't always consistent. The work was often quirky and misshapen. But the artists' passion was palpable. It was imperfect, but it was still overwhelmingly beautiful. As I wandered around by myself, it was as if I could hear those artists giving me permission to create.

Turned sideways

When I went home, I purchased several blank canvases. The sunflower picture is the first one I painted after Santa Fe. Ever since, I've been boldly painting on canvases whenever I feel like it.