"Nobody gets it right the first time."
Well, that is comforting. Enough to soothe my sore palms and busted self-worth.
I've recently embarked on yet again another round of non-income generating vocation. There's a slim chance of me turning back.
ArTeacher, same age us I am, keeps a reassuring grin on his face. every time he starts on his instructions for me to draw, i squirm. Then i'll start on few scrawls on the horrifying wide white space of my sketchbook, procrastinate (drink water, open a packet of cookies, go to the toilet), and steal a glance at Keith's notebook.
I will expectedly become more horrified because there will be so many things going on Keith's wide white space while i'm left to few scrawls that i'd try to cover up by shading.
Only to be told that shading is the last thing i should be doing.
"Give me a silhouette before you do anything else. At least give me an outline."
Which is of course very logical. Even in writing it applies--one needs an outline before one could stick conversational lines between those stories. even more so in project management. One has to set the boundaries of the project site before introducing any intervention, otherwise the project ends up with mish mash of half-finished deliverables.
But honestly, at this point in time, i find it easier to hide my mediocrity in shades of black ink (we are not allowed, to use pencils--well, Keith is, but not me). My outlines look no different from the outline of a truck that my 4 year-old has been sketching on the walls of our house.
Which leads me to anther analogy--the modern architecture. The stuffs people call cube houses, which many think are very easy to construct because, y'know, it is just a cube. But the beauty of modern buildings lie in the skills of the builders that make them. Because for one, it is very difficult to hide the lack of mastery of the builders if there are no ornate columns, or beautifully carved baseboards to cover up the skewed lines where the wall and the floor/ceiling meet.
I grab a glass of water, sigh, and pick up my pen. If i make few scrawls my teacher will think i am actually doing something but--
"So let us see what you got there."
BAM.
"Hmm."
Nice thing. This Hmmm. It's so vague it makes me more nervous.
I remember the 20 years of conversation:
"Daddy, look I made a portrait!"
"Hmmm."
"Daddy, i ran 7 kilometers in 38 minutes. Half of it is uphill."
"Hmmm."
"Daddy, I'm the team captain of the volleyball team."
"Hmmm."
"Daddy, I'm admitted to UP High School."
"Hmmm."
"Daddy, I think I'm failing Math 17 again."
"It's because you do not have an analytical mind."
I'm not really sure where this hmmm is taking me.
And i'm certainly not getting it right the first time. This artS thing. I wanted to learn how to make miniatures. Small replica of my cities. ArTeacher says that, the good thing about sculpture is you do not stop at drawing, or painting. You have to learn to draw, draw well, and then imagine how they would be in 3D. It is not enough that i am good at copying stuffs because i have copied many stuffs. That is how i taught myself to draw. But that is not enough. I have to draw in proportion, in beautiful actions with strong silhouettes, in concepts so persuasive my figures look as if they could jump out of the page of my sketchbook's wide white space and, i don't know, dance in front of me? There are so many things that i still have to learn.
Hmmm.
"What made you so good at wire bending?" Amazed at how easily ArTeacher makes clean curves with the size 16 wire.
"I've been bending wires since 1997, see?"
And he hands me the my awful looking 3D banga wire frame. I yanked the wires that earlier were misbehaving and refused to cooperate with me. 14 years it took him to tame them.
Yes, I see. I'm finally seeing it.
Well, that is comforting. Enough to soothe my sore palms and busted self-worth.
I've recently embarked on yet again another round of non-income generating vocation. There's a slim chance of me turning back.
ArTeacher, same age us I am, keeps a reassuring grin on his face. every time he starts on his instructions for me to draw, i squirm. Then i'll start on few scrawls on the horrifying wide white space of my sketchbook, procrastinate (drink water, open a packet of cookies, go to the toilet), and steal a glance at Keith's notebook.
I will expectedly become more horrified because there will be so many things going on Keith's wide white space while i'm left to few scrawls that i'd try to cover up by shading.
Only to be told that shading is the last thing i should be doing.
"Give me a silhouette before you do anything else. At least give me an outline."
Which is of course very logical. Even in writing it applies--one needs an outline before one could stick conversational lines between those stories. even more so in project management. One has to set the boundaries of the project site before introducing any intervention, otherwise the project ends up with mish mash of half-finished deliverables.
But honestly, at this point in time, i find it easier to hide my mediocrity in shades of black ink (we are not allowed, to use pencils--well, Keith is, but not me). My outlines look no different from the outline of a truck that my 4 year-old has been sketching on the walls of our house.
Which leads me to anther analogy--the modern architecture. The stuffs people call cube houses, which many think are very easy to construct because, y'know, it is just a cube. But the beauty of modern buildings lie in the skills of the builders that make them. Because for one, it is very difficult to hide the lack of mastery of the builders if there are no ornate columns, or beautifully carved baseboards to cover up the skewed lines where the wall and the floor/ceiling meet.
I grab a glass of water, sigh, and pick up my pen. If i make few scrawls my teacher will think i am actually doing something but--
"So let us see what you got there."
BAM.
"Hmm."
Nice thing. This Hmmm. It's so vague it makes me more nervous.
I remember the 20 years of conversation:
"Daddy, look I made a portrait!"
"Hmmm."
"Daddy, i ran 7 kilometers in 38 minutes. Half of it is uphill."
"Hmmm."
"Daddy, I'm the team captain of the volleyball team."
"Hmmm."
"Daddy, I'm admitted to UP High School."
"Hmmm."
"Daddy, I think I'm failing Math 17 again."
"It's because you do not have an analytical mind."
I'm not really sure where this hmmm is taking me.
And i'm certainly not getting it right the first time. This artS thing. I wanted to learn how to make miniatures. Small replica of my cities. ArTeacher says that, the good thing about sculpture is you do not stop at drawing, or painting. You have to learn to draw, draw well, and then imagine how they would be in 3D. It is not enough that i am good at copying stuffs because i have copied many stuffs. That is how i taught myself to draw. But that is not enough. I have to draw in proportion, in beautiful actions with strong silhouettes, in concepts so persuasive my figures look as if they could jump out of the page of my sketchbook's wide white space and, i don't know, dance in front of me? There are so many things that i still have to learn.
Hmmm.
"What made you so good at wire bending?" Amazed at how easily ArTeacher makes clean curves with the size 16 wire.
"I've been bending wires since 1997, see?"
And he hands me the my awful looking 3D banga wire frame. I yanked the wires that earlier were misbehaving and refused to cooperate with me. 14 years it took him to tame them.
Yes, I see. I'm finally seeing it.
