When I was in High School, in Grade 10, I decided I wanted to be a Doctor as I have always been fascinated with medicine. I was pretty excited about biology class and then we had to cut up a frog. That was the end of my medical career. Pivot...in Grade 11 I decided that I was not going to be an academic but rather an Artist. The whole idea of spending most of my school days in a room filled with art and other artists and the most eclectic and interesting teacher you could ever ask for, Mr. Zip, was my very green, idealistic, aspiring artist's dream.
Mr. Zip was quite a character. He was originally from Holland and as a young boy he ran messages in the underground during WW2. I mean come on, that alone was enough to peak my interest and want to hang out in his classroom. He was a tallish man and sported a long, unruly white beard, streaked with yellow nicotine stains. He had a head of white hair that matched his beard, he spoke with a mild dutch accent and he had an unconventional demeanour about him. To me, he felt immensely free and unconcerned about rules and regulations. Of course, at the time I didn't understand what may have motivated his vivre sa vie librement, live life freely, mindset. I didn't even wonder about it, I just know I liked it.
Looking back, I understand his childhood and informative years were spent in a country that fought off Nazi Germany which, no doubt, shaped that zest for life and liberty. Mr. Zip didn't follow the norms, case in point, he had no qualms about smoking and drinking coffee, in class! What? Yes, he did and consequently, his students did as well. "How cool was he," thought my 16 year old self? This was my first real foray into a world where an adult, who was also an educator, showed me we didn't have to conform. I was never a follower and my mouth had a tendency to speak before thinking, to question everything, to which there was usually undesirable consequences. But there, in that room, it was ok for me to be me, to learn and express myself without restriction, at least creatively anyway.
The art room was a wondrous place, littered with every medium and tool you could possibly get your hands on. Oil, acrylic and watercolour paints, charcoal and pastels and pencil crayons. There were buckets of brushes in every size, shape and texture, filled to over-flowing and scattered about the room. Canvases stacked ten deep leaned against walls, boards and paper of every description were crammed into cubbies and artwork created by previous students hung around the space, inspiring and encouraging us to make our marks. The floors were permanently stained with the drippings and splattering of pigment, much like a Jackson Pollack creation and the smell; it was liniment, coffee and old cigarette smoke that mixed and mingled with a mosaic of colour and a palpable energy of eager creatives, excited to tuck into honing their craft.
I remember Mr. Zip specifically whipping up a black and white line drawing of nuns, right before my eyes in about 5 minutes. (I still have that drawing and this reminds me that perhaps I should unearth it and give it a respectful resting place where it can be appreciated.) It was fascinating as he explained perspective and how he saw the subject in his minds eye. He recounted how he learned to draw in grids and eventually he no longer needed a grid. He told me that some of us needed the support as we learned and always would, while some of us can free flow as one's eye sees differently than others.
I never forgot Mr. Zip and those days I spent in that room. Strangely, I really don't remember the other students well. Perhaps my focus on the art and connecting with that was more important than the people I shared the room with? I remember the wall of windows that looked out to the four seasons that came and went. The freezing winter days when they frosted up and you could chisel out landscapes and portraits on the inside of them. We huddled in our boots and sweaters and toques, holding hot cups of coffee, blowing on chilled fingers, suffering for our craft. Perhaps the Catholic School Board wasn't paying their heating bill?
Then, the first signs of spring arrived and with the melting snows the windows would be open to allow in the fresh air, combating the months of staleness that lingered within. I remember the class taking a field trip to the North Saskatchewan river that runs through Edmonton to work en plein air, outside in nature. It was a gorgeous summery day, the river meandered past along with the gentle breezes that ruffled my sketchbook papers. There was something idyllic and magical about being a young art student studying nature, not cooped up in a classroom but outside, free to explore and dream. Did I know at the time that this was my joy? No, probably not. I think we all were just very happy to not be the losers slogging it out in math class.
I never pursued a career with my artwork. The common sense side of me had to make a living and in all honesty, I just wasn't good enough nor perhaps wanting or confident enough? I was too slow to be a commercial artist and I didn't have the ability to think outside the box, to create anything new and innovative. Could I draw and paint and copy, sure and reasonably well, yet, I didn't have that thing, that vision, that unknown that truly masterful creatives have and as much as it bothered me, I eventually became ok with that.
Today, I've come back to my art. I write and illustrate children's books. I paint watercolours and acrylics and will perhaps delve into oils sometime in the near future. I sketch in pen and ink. I post my work. I sell my work. I stopped worrying about what other people thought about my work and started doing the things that made me happy. That has brought back to me the joy of being creative.
My husband and I have raised two children who both earn a living in their chosen creative fields and for that I couldn't be happier. Over the years I was often asked if we worried that our children would be starving artists that couldn't support themselves or that they would be layabouts on our couch with me cooking and cleaning for them while they "pursued" their dreams. "Shouldn't they have a fall back just in case?" We weren't worried about it. As parents we encouraged our children to go after what was in their hearts and taught them an excellent work ethic. What they wanted wouldn't come to them, they had to go after it and we would support that. Today, they are more than grateful for our standing behind them, encouraging them even when it wasn't going so well, and they always knew they had people who believed in them which lent them to believe in themselves.
Not everyone is able to make a successful living as an artist. It can be a very difficult journey, but many journeys worthwhile are. The success you may have is often so reliant on what the opinions of others are. Often you are not in control of many of the outcomes. The rejection is constant with the number of no's usually far greater than the yes's, but, that doesn't mean one shouldn't try. It means that you must find a way to process the rejection, the criticism, the silence, and move forward, despite it all. We often hear of the 'overnight successes" which really are incredibly rare. The artist works long and alone without applause, not because they want to but, because they are called to.
I think it's wonderful to be able to be the person who can work within something they love and if they need a side hustle or two to cover daily living, well, that's life. It is said we should follow our passion, which is one way of living the dream. Conversely, just living life can often lead you to becoming passionate about something you didn't even have on your radar. Our romantic version of being a creative is just that, a romantic version that isn't quite realistic. However, if we can marry the realities of life while fulfilling what lies within us, that quite possibly is the ultimate relationship, kreatively speaking.
Love Kiki
xoxo
"You must be prepared to work always without applause." --- Ernest Hemingway
These paintings are my watercolours. Please head to the ARTWORK section of my website where you can see them in full. If you wish to purchase any of my paintings, please Konnect with me through my CONTACT email and don't forget to look at the other sections of my website that include my CHILDREN'S BOOKS where you can click on the live links to purchase through Amazon and my LIVE WELL products, information and Healthy Tips. Again, click on the live links to learn more about each product and to purchase through my website, www.christinehayden.arbonne.com
If you would like to join THE KONNECT KLUB please sign up below. It's Free to join and with your subscription I will send you my TAKE 10 TUESDAY FAUX COCKTAIL ebook as a Thank You. There's a Blog on that book as well.
Comments