Rocking impatiently on my back-yard swing, I clutched at a dilapidated piece of paper, a Crayola rose scribbled upon it. I was proud of my rose. But that afternoon, Mom had said earlier, I'd be going to art class. My toddler's heart could barely contain such excitement.
"You'll learn how to draw all sorts of flowers," my mother explained. "And if you get really good, you'll almost be able to smell them, too!"
From then on, art became my favorite subject. I covered all of the house's scrap paper with hand-drawn stories. My grandma and I would spend hours crafting books filled with the scribbled masterpieces of my four-year-old mind. No, I was not the best artist, but I surely was a happy one.
 |
| A teeny me, working hard to finish a portrait of Barney the Dinosaur (left). Some drawings from a productive day spent doodling with Grandma (right). Can you guess which one is hers?:p |
Now, as I look back on these old memories, I feel so blessed to be attending Miami University's School of Creative Arts. It's amazing to study my most beloved hobby all day, while also learning how to pass on that love to younger artists—today's portraitists of "Barney" and "Bob the Builder," but perhaps tomorrow's Michelangelo's and Vermeer's.
My mom was right about the flowers. I did, indeed, learn how to draw all different kinds—daisies, daffodils, lilies, and—still my favorite—roses. And sometimes I can almost smell then.
No comments:
Post a Comment