Today’s class was difficult.
The easy part was the bigger part; about 98% of today’s workshop was learning about the history of Botanical Art and famous botanical artists and artworks throughout history. That was fun. That was cool. I even brought lots of paper, for all the notes.
It was the first 2% of the day that mentally blew me into oblivion.
We started the class off with introducing ourselves. Scott wanted me to go first, and well…I must sounded like an absolute ding dong, because it ended with a quiet, “I’m worried about you.” It wasn’t accusatory, nor condescending. In his thoughtful way, he just simply stated it and then moved on to the next student.
I hope my face didn’t turn red, but it probably did.
It all kind of hit me…
I am the youngest in this class by like… 30 years.
My hair is dyed red.
My tattoos were showing.
I paint garden gnomes. fashion flower girls. loose florals?
My life is hockey, and loud running kids, and fitting in painting between my kid’s athletic practice and mountains of laundry.
and, Why the hell did I choose today, of all days, to wear my Princess Donut cat sweatshirt from Dungeon Crawler Carl?!?! ( +smacks head+)
……
Everyone here (including the students) know each other by name.
The other students have all already taken many workshops here.
All of the other students are in their 60’s or older… they are retired, they live a quiet life with time for 50 hour, detailed, accurate, botanical paintings. THEY LIVE NEARBY.
They all already paint or draw or color in this way.
Maybe, he’s worried about my long car drive. the time. the artistic style. Maybe all of it.
I feel overwhelmed. Am I being too idealistic? Too optimistic?
It’s interesting how something so small can derail you.
All I know is, that I know I am capable. That I want to learn. I want to grow. I want to challenge myself. I am industrious and work hard.
Maybe, in learning this style, it will take me a few rejections by the FFI before I could produce something worthy. That would be okay with me.
But… shit.
