So I’m terrible at art, and always have been. My mom would always tell me that it was genetic and I shouldn’t worry about it because she sucks at art too. I don’t know if that’s actually true or part of the trauma incurred when a bitchy art teacher told her to never take another art class again, but I’ve been hearing it my whole life. The last time I had an art class in school we were gluing pieces of tissue paper to other paper and drawing hand turkeys, so no real help on that front either.
I wish I could draw. It’s something I’ve wanted to change about myself for a long time. So this summer I decided to do something about it. I decided to take an art class. And instead of beginning drawing or whatever, I signed up for watercolors because, hey, go big or go home. This may have turned out to be a terrible mistake. The first day was fun, all painting squares blue. I can totally do that. Then the second day it became “draw this apple and make it look real with shadows and three dimensions and everything” and I felt like I had skipped a few classes. I’m still trying my best, but it’s hard.
At least you can kind of tell what all these are, right? Unlike week three, where I spent a careful 30 minutes painting a gross green blob:
But, really, when am I ever going to want to paint an artichoke? I’m okay with being bad at that. This week we start flowers!!