When I started college, I had a heavy interest in photography thanks to a photography course I took my senior year of high school. I already had a semi-pro DSLR camera and was learning everything I could. I wanted a career in publishing at the time and wanted to do something with photography, so I chose to double major. But little did I know at the time what a mistake that would be.
I soon came to find out I would have to take a series of other art courses before even being granted the privilege of taking photography I, art courses I discovered I cared little for. Drawing I was very discouraging because everyone was not only so much better than I was, but I just didn’t learn anything. Our courses were 3 hours long, 2x a week, and we were sat in front of a subject and told to just draw it. We weren’t actually taught anything–nothing of techniques or shading or lighting or any of that. It was very frustrating, and I know I did not improve a bit by the end. The thought of taking Drawing II was daunting because that was when we would start drawing models, and I had already decided I really hated drawing by then.
After Drawing I, I took 2D and 3D design. I absolutely despised 3D design. I had no desire to create three-dimensional works. The grading made no sense either, as there was never a rubric for any of our projects, and it was obscenely subjective. I remember one of my classmates, whose projects were outstanding, always received the same grades I did: a B. She was also a professional photographer and received a B on a photography assignment we had to do. The professor was also frequently, obscenely late with no explanation as to why. Needless to say, I learning nothing in this course either. It’s not that I wasn’t choosing to learn anything. How can you learn when you’re being told to go off on your own, there’s no help being given, and you’re essentially trying to teach yourself?
As for my 2D design course, I hated it as well, but it was the course that piqued my interest in painting. We started in black-and-white first. My very first assignment in this course was deemed “sloppy,” even though I was trying to channel some artist who did patterns in a very loose style. I started to realize in this course that college art courses expect you to have some sort of foundation that I was really lacking. I did have an interest in drawing throughout elementary and middle school, but something happened, and I fell out of love with it. What happened? I don’t really know. It just no longer interested me. Thus, I decided after these courses, I was done with the program. I didn’t need a degree to do photography, after all.
The biggest thing I hated about my 2D design course was being put on the spot every class, having to put our work up in front of our classmates and being critiqued by them and the instructor. All of our assignments were done outside of class, so it was frustrating that I was feeling, yet again, like I wasn’t learning anything. Yet, I do have to give credit to this course for being the reason I got into painting. By the time we progressed to color, with our instructor handing us acrylic paints, I was very much fed up. I went home with a rather rebellious idea for my assignment. I think the colors I chose were blue and green. I painted some gradient background, soaked my brush in acrylic paint, created three textured blotches on the paper (whatever paper it was we were using), and let each blot create a drop that ran down the page. I wasn’t trying to be creative or artistic. I was simply frustrated and didn’t even care for what I was doing. But what was wild was my instructor’s reaction to this piece.
When it was my turn to be critiqued, I stood in front of the class with an apathetic attitude, pinned my work up for critique, and was expecting to be torn apart. I expected it to be called “sloppy,” in the same way my very first piece was. Instead the instructor told me exactly this: “That’s what you were missing! All you needed was color.” I didn’t fully understand what she meant by this then, but I do now. Color is my gift, even if technique was not.
I was dumbfounded. The one assignment I didn’t even try, and it was my best. A classmate then later told me she basically implied everything I did sucked until then; however, at that point it didn’t matter. She had already lit that fire, and I allowed myself to have fun with the remaining assignments. I still chose not to continue with the art program, as there were too many classes I would have to take that I had zero interest in, even if painting would have been an interest itself.
I didn’t suddenly stop painting after quitting the program. In fact, I painted for a year after, using it to help manage my mania when I had not yet stabilized on medications. Of course, I wasn’t actively trying to learn how to paint. Rather, I just tossed paint on canvas, hoping something would work. And then, for whatever reason, I tossed the art supplies and didn’t pick up painting until I started physical therapy school years later, needing an outlet that could be done at home.
Now I am an entirely self-taught artist, having relied on Youtube videos and how-to books and modern artists I’ve fallen in love with. I also haunt Facebook groups to develop my art critique skills because if I can figure out how to make someone else’s painting better, then I can figure out how to better my own.
I didn’t merely want to mess around with the abstract. So three years later, here I am excited about opening my own online store this year.
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