Loving Laura

So I promised a certain best friend of mine that i would make a blog post tonight with pictures of little Miss Julia's painting that i did for her. Well...its not done. Yes i know , theres no point of being a perfectionist for a painting intended for a two year old, but its simply not finished. I cant lower my standard of work, even for a little cutie who would be happy with a splat of paint on a canvas. We as artists are always harsher on ourselves then our audiences are. See every flaw and slip up, no matter how well they are disguised. Maybe its a good thing. To judge yourself so harshly, to push yourself to do greater things. But most of the time its just a hinderance. If I cant do it perfectly why do it at all? Well thats whats been running through my head on loop for two years now.

I think it all started in grade 12 art, I made a sculpture for art class, for my final. It was an open assignment, no rules or confinements, let your artistic self soar. So I did. I put every ounce of my heart and soul into that sculpture. Every creative thread I had was woven into the countless hours I spent sculpting. Lunch breaks, after school, sometimes Id even skip class just to go in and sculpt. (man Im getting chills just thinking of where this story is going). So 2 months later, after spending more time on this then on any other project in my life, I was satisfied. Which is amazing in itself, as Im NEVER satisfied.
So off into the kiln it went, I even chose to forgo the glazing as I was so happy with the end result I didnt want its perfection to be marred by a colourful glaze. What i didnt know, was that the grade 9 sculptures were also going into the kiln. And what I also had no knowledge of was the fact that one of those grade nines, having no experience with clay neglected to do the first and vital most step to sculpting, which is to kneed the clay. For those of you who are not artists, you kneed the clay to get out any trapped air bubbles. If you dont do this, the air bubble will expand in the kiln and since there is no room for it to expand it will explode.
Yes, I said it, explode. And sitting next to that unnecessary and preventable explosion was my sculpture. *tear*
Now as you could imagine , I was DEVASTATED! No thats not even a strong enough word. I was crushed into pieces as was my hard work and all of my artistic soul. And not only that, but for sooooome reason the dumb art teacher (not nearly as great as the BCI art teachers whom I loved, as she was always sitting on her ass and reading, which seemed to be a trend with pj teachers) decided to bring it out and tell me while I was writing my effing exam! Yeah, I know! What was she thinking? COuldnt she have brought it out after I handed in my exam which I had just barely started! So needless to say I failed. The test, wouldve failed art too as she hadnt marked it before baking it, but she mustve had some heart as she gave me a 52% to graduate highschool. A 50! holy moly, for those of you who know me, I have never gotten a 50, in any class, let alone art. The lowest mark i ever got in art was an 82 and I beat myself up about that.
I still have it. I think so at least. Its at my parents house, in a box in the basement. I couldnt bring myself to take it with us to our new place. It felt like failure was stamped on my head, and everything I did was pointless. Its funny sad how all it takes is one bad comment to destroy a dream. Since I was a little girl Ive been an artist. You would never see me anywhere without my sketch book and pencils. It was all of who I was. And then it was all taken away from me in a flash ( I understand now that thats not true). I stopped drawing. I stopped painting. I even stopped with photography. What was the point? Id only fail.
years went by and one by one my loves died off. I stopped reading. Stopped going on nature walks. I fell into a hole of sorrow, and Im sorry if that sounds dramatic to you, but I was litterally intrenched in sadness. Not just because of this one project, but at the sudden realization that I would never be an artist.

Two long years went by, and little by little I got my rhythm back. I went on walks, read books, saw friends and started listening to music again. From time to time Id even sit down with my sketch book to draw, but nothing would happen. Id just stare at the blank page, and feel defeated. Then, after a whole bunch of drama, Im sure Ill make a post about it someday, I got pregnant with Laura. And a spark i thought to be long extinguised burned strong in my gut. Or maybe that was just heart burn, but anyways, I had a feeling to paint. SO I painted for Laura. And they were shit. Seriously shitacular. I thought I had lost my 'skill'. Silly me. I was just out of practice. And I still am. Its like an athlete, who quit running and became a couch potatoe, and then one day decides to run a marathon and is upset when they cant.
Little by little I hope to get it back. Im just so happy to have to urge again. Its like fire in my veins, compelling me to greatness. Or so I hope!

In a side note, Id like to thank Justine, for reminding me that friendship is real, and that no matter what hard times come our way, there is always light at the end of the tunnel. I am so saddened that the end took place in such horrible circumstances, but at the same time Im glad you were here. Where people had your back. And remember, I will ALWAYS have your back. Now that being said here are some pictures <3

Until next time (which will be this week when I finish Julia's painting) I bid you farewell  <3