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Van Gogh and Me
by Rose
Madeline Mula
I
knew about Van Gogh's demons. That should have given me a clue that
trying to paint will drive you crazy. As we all know, despite Vinny's
amazing talent, he became so deranged that he lopped off an ear.
In
my case, my staggering lack of artistic ability threatens to lead
to even worse. It won't be pretty. My right
hand is in imminent danger of meeting the same fate as the
Van Gogh ear. Why? Because it won't do as it's told.
When I put a brush in it, it stubbornly refuses to reproduce the
gorgeous masterpieces pictured in my mind. Instead, it creates
a mish-mash of multi-colored or monotoned undefined shapes.
It's really very unfair. When Jackson Pollock does this,
the results hang in the finest museums in the world. Mine
end up in the waste basket, torn into tiny bits, because I'm embarrassed
to have the trash collector see them.
But
getting back to my hand, a key phrase in the preceding paragraph
is "when I put a brush in it" - which is very seldom. How
can I expect to learn to paint when I won't practice the craft?
I had hoped the answer was to buy just about every book published
on the subject. This might work if I would at least
open one of them from time to time, but I never do. I apparently
think that the wisdom they have to impart can be absorbed simply
by osmosis. Hey, I do my bit. I pay good money for
the books. I shouldn't have to actually read them and practice
what they teach, should I? Also, what about all those expensive
brushes, paints, papers, and other accouterments that I buy?
Who has the time to use them? I'm much too busy looking
for excuses not to write, not to vacuum, not to practice the piano,
not to exercise, not to learn Italian . all activities I swore
I'd pursue faithfully once I retired. It's not that I haven't
made an effort. I've also bought dozens of tomes (and
tapes) on writing, housekeeping hints, piano playing, exercise,
and Italian. Again, I haven't actually opened any of those
books yet either or put any of the tapes into my Walkman?
What's the point when I'm not walking?
Now
getting back to the subject of painting (see how easily I'm distracted?),
my initial efforts were very promising. Two years
ago, I took a course titled, Watercolor Without Fear.
It was wonderful. Following the instructor's excellent guidance
I actually produced a fairly respectable painting of a rose that
first evening. It was intoxicating! I was sure I had found
a new career. Unfortunately, as it turned out, I have yet
to surpass those premier efforts. In subsequent classes,
I made the mistake of looking around at what my classmates were
doing - and they were doing it so much better than me that despite
my teacher's valiant attempts to encourage me, I became very intimidated.
It also doesn't help that two of my best friends are very talented
artists.
But
I'm not going to give up. In fact, first thing tomorrow
morning, I going to rush right out and buy a great new book on
watercolor techniques that I saw at Artists 'R Us last week .
and while I'm there, I think I'll pick up that $49 brush I've
had my eye on.
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