How Do You Art?

I can’t draw. The pencil touches the paper and it’s all downhill from there. What’s the trick? What’s the secret? Why aren’t my sausage people acceptable? So what if all of my four-legged animal drawings look the same?

This post is in response to Aaron’s Sunday Scribblings’ prompt – Art.

I remember in Grade 9, we had to take one Arts elective – drama, music, or art. Oh, how I wish “none of the above” were an option.

I wasn’t going to take drama because that would’ve been too much extroversion for one class. I wasn’t going to take music because I don’t play any instruments. So, I was stuck taking art. Yay.

Surely, though, there’d be other amateurs in the class. I wouldn’t be the only one trying to fake my way through each day.

Wrong.

Everyone was a Vincent Van Gogh and I was a Vincent Van Oh-No.

I can’t remember what I ended up getting in the class, but I think high 70s rings a bell. Thank you, written tests. I love you so much.

One thing I’ve always wanted to know when it comes to drawing a picture is, what is going through your mind when you pick up a pencil and start drawing?

Do you have an image in your head that you try and replicate on the page? Do you imagine you’re tracing the image from your head onto the page in front of you? What is the trick? How do you know how long your lines should be?

The whole concept just feels impossible to me.

Is this the part where I mention that I went to art classes as a kid? The instructor put a bowl of fruit on the table, positioned some lights to add shadows, and told us to draw.

It’s an orange…do I just draw a circle? How do I draw a circle? Does anyone have something circular that I can trace?

WAIT, HOW DO YOU DRAW A BOWL?

No one tells you how to draw, but they tell you how to shade. Yes, I know shading is a part of it. But how do I draw the thing that I later shade?

I just wanted someone to tell me how to link up my brain with my pencil and output it on the sheet in front of me. That’s all.

But I guess you’re either born with the ability to draw, or you’ve got two left hands.

That’s my spin on the “two left feet” phrase. I think it works.

I guess we all have our thing that comes naturally. The thing we make look easy.

Not to toot my own horn, but I think writing comes naturally to me. I sat down with, “I can’t draw” in my head and somehow it spiralled into all of this, without much effort.

Sports also come naturally to me, whether it’s playing, or understanding what I’m watching. I just know.

Is it the same way for people who are good at drawing? It must be. Those freakin’ wizards and wizardettes.

I never understood how any kid could hate gym class, until I took that Grade 9 art class. Oh, so this is what it’s like to not be good at something, but be forced to struggle through it every day.

To be fair, the class wasn’t asking me to paint murals, or do anything too complicated.

But when you can’t draw, everything is complicated.

It’s not just, “I have to do that assignment.” It’s, “what do you mean I only get one piece of paper to work with?” You’re in constant fear of messing up, before you even start.

Anyway, I think I’ve turned over enough bad memories here today.

I can laugh about it now.

EVEN THE PAPER MACHE MUMMY I HAD TO MAKE WAS A DISASTER. AND IT WAS A GROUP EFFORT. WHAT THE HECK.

Sorry, don’t know where that came from.

Well, this was fun.

Can you draw? What’s the secret? Should I start a Paul Draws blog series?