Such bright possibilty

I'm not bored.

I'm not sure I've ever been bored. I have had a stockpile of idea cramming into my greasy skull since as long as I can remember. If I wasn't talking to cats, I was drawing up plans for my very own empire. Or, maybe I was arrange antique hats on my head while watching Star Trek for ideas for fan-fiction. I've thought about making baby-carriers. I've had countless ideas for stories and books, despite my actual lack of writing aptitude. I have fancied myself some sort of fashion icon. I might be a baker.

Theres really not enough time for all this- especially since I tend to be quite sleepy.

Who cares- the days roll on and I'm sucking the marrow out of them.

At the moment, I'm particularly enamoured with art and the enormous possibility that I could add myself as a participant in this realm sometime soon.

I took my first college class since 1997 this year. It was the pre-req. for the courses I really wanted to take (Figure Drawing or Portraits). Drawing and Composition, Art 300. I was pretty sure it was going to be LAME.

I showed up late- in tears, actually over the stress it was to get to a place I'd never been before, and having realized you had to pay to park- IF you could get a spot (which I couldn't, by the way)

I was unprepared. I'd never even driven to the campus, never went to the bookstore. Never checked to see if I needed an ID, or a parking pass. This is fairly typical of my oblivion.

Class started at 5:30 and I got there about ten minutes late. It was a big classroom- at least bigger than I'd imagined. It was packed, and I got the last seat. Perched atop rolling drafting chairs where what seemed at first to be all 18 year-olds. The professor wasn't the wide-set, graying, crusty man I pictured, but a petite, long haired German woman who smiled politely at my tardiness as she continued to read over the syllabus.

Groans came from my classmates as she read through the points, and as my anxiety faded, I could tell this was no do-do art class. She had some serious plans for us. Hands went up for questions and I saw that I was not the only person who just became legal, but, that there were some sincerely motivated students like myself.

The class was 5 hours long- once a week on Wednesday nights. Our homework consisted of lengthy sketchbook assignments that were more difficult than I'd imagined. The professor was tough on us, and offered the much needed criticism I've been wanting all these years.

In November, we had to due a term paper, which I hoped would be some sort of monumental 10,000 word feat. She only want 500 words- a critique of a piece from a real Gallery. I panicked over where to go to find such a piece, and took a chance on Nevada City. Nevada City is full of art and little cafes, I hoped I could find something that was up to the criteria Professor Schmid had given us.

In one gallery I found the piece I was looking for upon walking in the door. I knew it because it not only attracted me, but it upset me. The first thin I said was, "Now, why can't I do that?" The painting was everything I've tried to do. It was bright, but not jovial, not juvenile either. It had a depth to it, but didn't have an excess of detail. It was whimsical, but there was something grounded and a bit dark to it. I was in love.

I wrote my paper on this painting and got every point possible- a real A-plus. (who knew I had it in me?)

The painting haunted me. I had a print out of it I got off the internet, and kept it on my easel. Like I said, I love and hate it. I'm at once delighted and intensely jealous of the artist for being able to communicate this.

A few days before Christmas I became inspired to try to paint. I worked almost an enitre day to come up with something, anything that would be a new start for me. I thought maybe taking the drawing class would change my painting. It grew my drawing skills by leaps and bounds, so maybe my painting will have improved?

Nope. I couldn't do it. My hand didn't work- nothing I tried to do worked. I put it all away in despair.

(yes...despair.) (shut up)

Christmas morning was wonderful with the kids and I honestly had given very little thought to what Matt would get me. I got him a back massager- this is the depth of my gift-giving talent.

He handed me a bag- a fairly large bag with what I assumed was a frame. The prospect of a framed photo made me panic. Does this man know me at all? The last thing I wanted was a framed photo. I'm just not like that.

I pulled it out and unwrapped it upside down. I was trying to work up the acting skills to be thrilled once I unveiled it.

The back of it was wooden. There was a tiny tag on it that said: "Relational Acrobatics 2"

I knew those words. I thought to myself- He framed the print out of that painting?

I pulled it out, turned it over, ran my hand over it and realized, in a mixed moment of joy and terror. "This IS the painting?"

It was there in my lap. The object of admiration and envy that I'd been toiling over for weeks. In my lap. My husband spent a huge amount of money for this object that was taunting my brain.

I hung it on the wall under a good light and it seemed to light up the room. My paintings have never done that- thank goodness none of them are nearby. Jealousy crunched in my stomach as I inspected the brushstrokes and the layers of color the artist used to achieve the image.

I stood back and realized. I was in love with this painting. My first real work of art that I own- the money going into the pocket of someone who someday, long ago may have felt as frustrated and inspired by such a piece.

It's wonderful, really. I can't pass it with out resolving myself to stop complaining and be will to work my ass off to get to the place where I CAN express myself the way I dream I can. This is the starting point- no more jealousy, but a prod in the direction of what lights my fire, I suppose.

I'm taking Acrylic Painting this semester with the same Professor. I will give it all I've got, because I no longer have the time to waste anymore. Such possibility.

The artist who did this painting is Carol Aust. I'd love to pick her brain, if I could ever get to courage to do so. Her website is here.