After six weeks of bother and bliss, the watercolor class is over. I learned a lot about watercolor, and a good bit about myself.
I was surprised to enjoy homework and deadlines. The structure forced me to face my fears and gave me specific types of challenges to face. Now I'm on my own. Very Scary.
When 9-year old N last visited us he brought his recorder. He approaches learning to play the instrument with the exuberance of youth. Unabashed and unashamed about imperfections, he told us he practices so he can get better. I congratulated him with a hearty "Practice makes perfect." What an old hypocrite I am!
Since the class ended I have been drawing, well, a little. Drawing is my comfort zone. I'm happy to be making art after all these years of avoiding it. I may be rusty, but I know I can draw. Unfortunately, the terror of painting continues.
My ego is my enemy. I need to embrace mistakes. It is the only way to learn. In an act of faith, I took one of my drawings, inked in an outline, erased the pencil lines and proceeded to paint. The result was clumsy, but why wouldn't it be? I'm still learning. And who cares, really? Sometimes the goal is the action, not the result.