One Friday after work, I felt like painting. If you remember it was on my summer bucket list to paint my version of contemporary art (which is one of my favorite categories of art). I went to an art store in Soho and spent over $70 on five canvases, three paint brushes, and six acrylic paints. Once home, I sat on the floor and created for the rest of the weekend.
One of the things this experience taught me is to never have an opinion about someone’s ventures or capabilities if you haven’t tried it for yourself. For years, I would look at art in museums and question why it was art. It looked so elementary. Yet, when it came time for me to create art of my own, I struggled. My brushstrokes were noticeable; My letters were too big, my lines were uneven, and my colors didn’t blend well. Gradually, I began to revere all artists because painting is not an easy task. There’s a certain technique you have to have and I knew I wouldn’t master it all in one weekend but with practice, maybe I would.
I was talking to some people about my weekend of creating and someone proposed that I show my art at their show. I told them I wasn’t an artist and expected them to leave it at that. Then they said, “If you’re not going to be proud of your work then don’t even talk about it.” I know they meant well (and I love you ladies), but it made me think. I’m really not an artist and don’t want to be boxed into that category. I am a creative. I like to create things. I get inspired by things. I try to lead a limitless life. If I want to create art I am going to create it, but I know for certain that it doesn’t make me an artist.
I say this all to say we should all strive to allow ourselves to just live. Sometimes, doing something out of the norm like art doesn’t necessarily make you an overnight artist. I used painting as a release or an outlet of some sort and I ended my weekend feeling inspired and ready to conqueror the world. It was quality time with myself and that is priceless.