The first time that I have a vivid memory of my artwork is about the 4th grade. I was fortunate enough to live in a time and place where we had art with a regular art teacher and on a regular basis. My memory is winning some sort of award or commendation formy artwork piece:. .. it was a “pop art” piece — colored pencil, I believe — a jar of peanut butter with a jar of grape jelly on top. ( Remember the famous Campbell’s Soup cans?). The night of the school art show, we went as a family and it still burns in my ears hearing my mother say oh I am so ashamed she viewed my winning pop art piece.
However, it was a current time in the United States… As it is a turbulent time now. Although I tried many dysfunctional paths to peace , thehe only place I found a bit of Zen was in my artwork. Whether it was just a doodle or a full-blown project, it was the only place I ever felt inner peace. I completed School with a Regents diploma in Visual Fine Arts ( with my portfolio having to be registered with the Board of Regents in the state capital), and graduated with honors in spite of myself.
- My point to those of you out there reading this post,
- Can you remember your first art encounter?
- The first time that Art became firmly in your life?
- The first harsh criticism of your artwork? And your feelings to get past that?
Most importantly, do you join me in the feeling that there is only inner peace at the end of a paintbrush, pencil, ink pen, charcoal…
( also known as Abby The Artist)