You don't need an eraser

When I was a little younger - say 20, 25 years - I spent a lot of time drawing.  My family liked what I did, of course, and while I was pleased by this, the back of my brain told me that they were supportive because they had to be.  After all, they loved me - didn't they have to tell me they liked my creations?  Ah, the wicked tricks my perfectionistic mind played on me.  Luckily, I never let my doubts stop me from creating for personal pleasure.  I drew, wrote poetry, sewed - anything reflective and quiet captivated me.  But to create to share?  I never thought I was "good enough" for that.

Enter Ms. Gearhart, grade 10 English.  Something about her led me to open up and try things that I don't think I would have otherwise tried.  I wrote most of my poetry during the three years that she was my teacher.  It was a juicy time and I think it was then that I began to question the idea that no one else would be interested in the things I created.  Could it be possible that I was capable?  Her encouragement and support led me to think that I might like to be a writer when I grew up.  As it turned out, I became a teacher instead.  Something great about teaching is the variety of activities we get to plan out and take part in.  I get to teach writing, and I get to write.  I get to teach art, and I get to share my creativity on a small scale.

I have been teaching for ten years this fall.  It seems like a very long time, and simultaneously not long enough.  Each class I have worked with has provided me with the opportunity to grow and learn alongside them.  For many years, one of my mantras has been: "There are no mistakes in art - you don't need an eraser".  It's easy, as the teacher, to talk more than you listen.  It wasn't until two years ago that I really listened to myself.  I am so glad that my ears finally began working.

The freedom I have begun to experience through this idea has offered me a kind of "lightness" that I have never before experienced.  What I needed was permission from myself to make mistakes.

Can you do without your eraser? 

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Zoning In #2

"Make a list," said the book I read on blogging.
("Make your own," say I to you dear reader....)


10 things that inspire me:



10. The yeasty smell of my mom's fresh bread

9. Conversations over tea, lingering and sweet

8. Other artists, daringly sharing

7. The Rockies, majestically pointing heavenward

6. Flowers, vaporous colour in summer fields

5. Weather, which is so fickle in these foothills

4. Trees, to which I feel akin

3. My daughter, who wonders

2. My husband, who is so joyful

1. God, who gives me the ability to be inspired in the first place

Art in action

It's great to watch people on fire. When someone burns with passion for what they do, they exude a kind of joy that people just have to look at. I got to be in a room full of passionate people last night.

The fundraiser for "The Subliminal Rabbit Presents" was packed with people. The passionate energy created by the fiery people in the room was even more fragrant than the appetizers they served. So many people in the community pulled together to donate all kinds of wonderful things as both door prizes and auction items. Incredible hand-painted clothing, original gallery-quality photos, pen-and-ink work, a wine-making kit, gift cards for services like massage - even a brand-new mountain bike! I believe the evening was a marvelous success and surely hope that these folks who believe so deeply in their work were funded handsomely.

When people come together around something they feel strongly about, so many wonderful things can happen. I was honored to participate in something bigger than myself last night. Thanks again, Jean, for involving me in your dream!

Waiting.

It's true! I didn't know what to paint for a few days... Then, out comes this drippy business over there. How did it happen? I waited. Not the kind of waiting where I sat on the couch and twiddled my thumbs, although I have to admit to having done that for at least a few minutes while hemming and hawing. This was active waiting. I got opinions, I leafed through art books, I had some quiet thinking time and some not-so-quiet thinking time. Then, out came 3 new works. (The next two I'll post soon ...)

Waiting is fun! Not the passive kind (the kind I brought up in the beginning of this post), but the assertive kind. So, I wait on my family when I do dishes or cook a meal. I wait on my students when I organize a field trip or spend extra time outside of school listening to them. I help a stranger out by holding the door just because they are there and I was the first one through. Waiting is fun. Hard work kind of fun. The rewards far outweigh the cost.

How much time do you spend waiting?