When I was a kid, I used to draw, mostly horses, but I could copy anything I saw or remembered seeing. Most of my pictures were drawn with a number two pencil. Later, when I was in middle school, I was introduced to pencil sets. I drew some incredible fish with a cheap set of colored pencils. My teacher handed me a set of water colors. Not the kind that comes in a tube, but the kind that is comes in a tray of twelve. I painted a picture of some water lilies and the forest. I remember my teacher coming to stand and watch. She said it could have been painted by a professional. I don't know by what standard she judged this. Art was always something I could just do and I never really cared if I was good at it. I can't judge know because the painting was lost, as was so much of my art, after I entered foster care at age 14. I continued to draw a little here and there, and even took up painting after college. Paints and canvas are not terribly portable, so I gave up all artistic pursuits outside of writing when I came to the ROK (Republic of Korea). It wasn't really a sacrifice or it hadn't seemed like it. I never wanted it the way I wanted and still want to write. I saw art as thing that took time away from writing.
Two days ago (as of writing this) I bought myself a gift. It's a electronic drawing pad and pen. I wanted this so I could make electronic mind maps for my books. But I have a copy of Artrage. I drew a horse, a nose and a mouth. I drew the horse because I know to draw them from memory. I drew the nose and the mouth for practice. But something much more important happened when I was drawing and I want to put what that was in to words. I've written a dozen sentences and deleted them all. Art was something could always just do and I think it's something I need to do, even if it takes time away from other pursuits. Comments are closed.
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