button jar

Because Fear and Embarrassment are my constant companions in painting class, I’m trying something new to trick them into looking the other way when I pick up a brush or pen. I bought a stack of cheap little canvases at a craft store and I’m slapping on oil paint fast and furious before my censor catches up.  I dash them off on the kitchen table before I remember I’m not a real artist.  I have no expectation of the results being good or something I’d keep. I don’t care if they go in the trash as soon as I’m done. Same thing for my sketchbook. Fast, sloppy drawing and colorful markers meant for kids. And I don’t heed all the advice not to tear a page out of your writing/drawing notebook. Screw that. I love ripping out the BIG mistakes and the mishaps because I don’t want my insecurity to take me back to those over and over again to obsess about what I didn’t do right.  I want to jump over the security fence set up around my adult brain to keep it safely inside the lines and recapture the fun I had doing this long before I realized Art was serious and only meant for geniuses, grown-ups and professionals.

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