Art To Me

I talk about art and what I am doing with it, but it has occurred to me that I have never discussed what art means to me. Bearing in mind that this is a public forum, I will try to explain myself.

As far back as first grade, art provided a means of self expression without criticism. It has always calmed me and allowed me to work out personal issues and problems. The process of creating releases endorphins that make me feel good. Picasso was purported to have said that creating art was as close as he got to believing in god. I can understand that.

I still remember finger painting for the first time in kindergarten. It was euphoric. At first art fulfilled my emotional needs. Succeeding at it made me want to try harder to do a better job technically. And so it goes. I have never had difficulty coming up with ideas to draw and paint. My only real frustration comes with the fact that my painting skills are never as good as I want them to be.

You will have noticed that I only work in watercolor. That was really not a choice I would have picked for myself. After the usual elementary school media, I began painting with my mother’s oil paints. I took classes with her and was very happy with that medium until early college when I developed an allergy. I switched to acrylics and watercolors. After college I moved totally to watercolors because my apartments were so small. That’s not a very exciting story but it is true. And once one has invested in a lot of expensive equipment, it becomes too difficult to change to another medium.