Thursday, May 22, 2008
It has been a while. For me with so many things, yes, it has been a while.
About three months ago, I have decided to resume my supposed passion for art. Many people have heard about it and have seen my capability to deform a building's facade, paint it with different shades of red and call it "art". I, on the other hand, has not considered this supposed "talent", really A talent. When the people in my art class last year mentioned I am cheating my way out, I told them "it's [just] called being wise". In which then, I don't think art is really my forte; being wise might be, however (but on any given time, I will prove to you I am as talented as Picasso with more use of fancy colors). Anyway, while visiting galleries downtown with two girlfriends of mine who have more knowledge of the subject, I was suddenly (yes, in the middle of the raging LA traffic) struck with the idea of getting back to my one and true love: art and frustration. It was my friend's birthday the day after (I wanted to paint her a sea escape, utilizing only colors, no indication that it is a sea escape) and so I had the chance to prove to myself once and for all, I still have the will power to mull over paint fumes and stare on my rough sketch for hours at a time. My tiny tubes of paint were discovered, hidden under piles and piles of shoe boxes under my bed; the paint brushes however, were intoxicated with paint and hard as a butterfinger bar. Such ill fated outcome to my absolute desire to reunite with my love did not stop me, however. Although after 3 hours of pouring blue paint all over the canvas (it was then passed midnight), it occured to me I was not getting anywhere. I added some flare to my brushing technique, no luck to that. I tried adding white, well, it seemed to me a desperate act. The canvas did not lie, I was as talented as my next door neighbor: she's 5 and she drew better clouds compared to when I was 5.
These days, I've wanted my passions so bad, my forceful attitude has actually pushed all of that knick and knacks away. My efforts, especially when it comes down to art, have been ineffective. Oh yes, and I do put A LOT of effort, too much perhaps that sometimes, I just end up being frustrated that I cannot finish any drawing that I start.
Take my oil pastel on paper, for example. My niece Lyca is still faceless, her arms imbalance--hair, a bunch of lines that stick up...and no, i did not intend it to be abstract.
And lets not talk about my supposed landscape here, with a kid from Banaue, looking intently at me as I draw (take a photo) him. Instead of a peaceful, breathtaking scenery of the mountains of Banaue, it ended up looking like turmoil and chaos. While the trees lack (and I mean really, really lack) details, I feel like I am back to square one (to 1st grade where I drew brocolli-like trees).
Must I go on?
As embarassing this is for me to announce to the world (or just the people who read this) that I don't "got it no more", it is more than the embarassment--I am internally struggling with this. Although telling an old high school friend I missed Mr. M, the teacher who truly pushed my buttons during my art career in high school, says a lot about my real desires to reclaim what I have had a year ago: a budding talent, the feeling of absolute frustration that had always turned into definite passion.
What can I do? Every time creativity strikes me, I am out and about pigging out on Pad thai and boba tea. Every time I have an idea or two about what to write next, I am dealing with customers who will never be happy with how their baby looks like. And most notably, every time I truly, absolutely want to paint a modern thematic art, I am nowhere near a canvas or paints.
Hmmm. I don't think I can push further (it's 1:00AM, what do you want from meee?) Like they all say: it will come to me. Indeed it will be. Maybe it'll knock on my door tomorrow. We will see. :)
Labels: art, patience, personal statement
My mind's unweaving/ 12:06 AM
Warning: This personal blog can be fatal to your health; read responsibly. Fasten seatbelt when doing so.
Tis written unlike no other in my attempt for creativity. Here, you'll find *fragmented fictional and real stories that are relevant to my life in some ways. I don't enumerate things that happens to me everyday nor do i purposely rant about lame, stupid "teenage" cliches. My entries are from memory, past experiences, reviews (food, book, movie) and my opinions on current issues--and no, no politics whatsoever. Grammatically incorrect to a degree but nothing that can make you squirm (or so I hope not).
P.S. Put in mind that I'm a scrumptious-looking cupcake and you know you can never, EVER, resist me...so no hating or you'll never get to eat "us" again! lol
YOU, CHATTERBOX, YOU.
designer : kathleen
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