‘There’s nothing quite like it…’ I heard the instructor say as she held up a small stick of graphite. ‘…You’ll love it by the end of class.’
I held the stick in my hand and sighed. Paper hung on the easel, blank. I gulped.
‘Now, close your eyes and think of your favorite thing. Then, with eyes still closed, start to draw. It doesn’t have to be perfect, doesn’t have to make sense to anyone but you. Just draw.’ The instructor encouraged.
Closed eyes, stick to paper, I drew… Bicycle…the escape vehicle of my youth.
The photo from the table really called straight to my heart. Maybe because it reminds me so much of my own childhood. I grew up in a less than ideal situation. My bicycle was my only means of transportation until I graduated from college. It was my mainstay, my escape. Art as well served as a way to escape and relax for a while. My Mom, when she wasn’t drunk or high was quite an artist herself. I learned first from her… shade here, stipple that. Coloring was serious business in our home. The more real it looked the happier I was. I lost this ability in a car accident in 1996, and have been “riding on” to regain the skill. This drawing of the little girl is the first that really comes even close to the realism I could once create. Dare I to say that I’m just a little proud of myself in the accomplishment.