Learning to Be a Beginner Again
The last time I seriously put pencil to paper in the attempt to draw something I was 12 years old. Since then my potential contribution to the walls of the National Gallery has been in sketches during epic Pictionary games. But I've been recently inspired by a friend's work, lockdown journey and her sketch notebooks.
How would it be to go to a life drawing class, now - and draw someone?
I wasn't good enough. I'd learned that. Not my 'thing'. You may well have been taught this too. You may even say these words. It's taught so well.
I'd got a guitar in my hands and sang. In the privacy of my 13 year old bedroom that took care of many things for me, and it allowed me to practice in delicious privacy. Yet I'm gently knocking back again on an old door that the teenage despondency of early art lessons had closed to me.
Was the story true? I've been privileged to enjoy an abundance of creativity and artistry in life: theatre maker, performer, improv teacher, writer, musician, dancer, movement artist, songwriter, singer, cook, garden designer... Yet what about this drawing lark?
So I booked the life-drawing class in Angel and off I went. It was the fourth floor and I'd walked from Embankment and was out of breath. I hurriedly followed a woman in (who must be going too) and felt that rush of relief you feel when someone else is leading the way along a cliff top.
Then. An art studio... Wow. Character, space, energy, easels, and, there they were, the untouchables - the artists.
"This is my first class ever, fancy giving me a bit of help?" The teacher gave me that double finger eye thing. "I'll come round and see you". Encouraging teachers are our saviours in times of need. I felt he would connect with me.
"We'll have a warm up, 5 minutes everyone, off you go".
I'd got some paper but couldn't get the easel clip to attach it, and I was discombobulated because I needed to keep taking my glasses off to see my paper properly. God, how do I start? All I'll do is re-create that spindly drawing I drew as a twelve year old. I was thirsty. I was loosing my ground, my heart was beating faster. And there was a naked woman in front of us all, strangely detached, in a shape. There was a lot to deal with..
AND YOU WANT ME TO DRAW HER? NOW??
Well, there's always a choice.
Yes, our favourite delaying tactic is.. coffee!
But no, I was committed. I felt inwardly warmed by my own huge self-deprecating smile and Mrs Van Gogh next to me was settling in nicely with her oils. The teacher came. I took huge steps of discovery. I was a art baby learning to walk.
Two hours later I'd drawn 5 sketches.
The first steps of learning are the most dramatic. A child learns to walk. A student learns to drive. It feels like we take on the world and meet it head on in those first moments; our attention is fully engaged, no time to let the mind meander. We are fully present in the body of a learner. This is who we are in that moment. It's one of the most fulfilling and exciting places to live in.
Are you enjoying the drama of new steps in something creative?