Don't Afraid: 3/1/06

Monday, March 20, 2006

I was prepared to drop the class, to explain to the instructor that it just wasn’t what I needed. I had the speech prepared in my mind – the complimenting of his teaching style, the graciousness for going out of his way to get me into the class, the promise of intent to come back once I had learned what I needed (IF I learned what I needed) elsewhere. He came to my stand and I said, “I have a problem.” He gave me his full attention, the way so few people do these days, and raised an eyebrow. “I am at the limits of my knowledge of anatomy,” I began, “and…”

“But that’s a wonderful problem to have!” he said. (I was thinking, ‘HUH?’) "It may not seem like it, but it is. You see that you want to get from here to there, but don’t have the knowledge or skills to do so. You see what it is that you need and can be very anxious. But despair can drive you through that process. Despair can push you through to the next level. You will be amazed at what you comprehend. And then you will see how much more you have to learn. Because when you arrive at that place, armed with the knowledge you sought, you will be blocked by something else and see a new place you want or need to reach. It doesn’t end it and it can be very frustrating. But what you have achieved is also wonderful. It is like the person climbing a pole. The higher they get, the more they see, and they climb higher still and then see farther away, only to see that there is even more out there and to continue to climb."

Monday, March 13, 2006

Not long after I began dating my boyfriend, I remember a walk together on a sunny Sunday afternoon, up Ontario from my D.C. studio apartment to his house on Euclid St. This was the walk during which I spilled my guts -- airing dirty little secrets, hidden neuroses, bad habits and really anything and everything (almost) I would never want to expose to someone with whom I shared a new and intense attraction. But there was logic to this madness; on some level I believed that if he was still interested early on -- with full knowledge of the baggage I carried -- there was less to fear as things moved forward. If he rejected me then, well, I would have saved us both some time and future heartache.

I find myself in a similar spot as I start writing this first blog entry: fighting an urgent desire to plaster my insecurities, self-doubts and those ever-present neuroses at the top of this page in large and foreboding letters -- giving you, reader, a chance to click the back button and move on to something more entertaining (I can waste hours playing with the flexible dates section of Travelocity, planning imaginary trips to places like Lima or Vladivostok). Perhaps this time I'll resist the urge to stave off the heartache.

I study painting in Queens. Most Monday nights you will find my Ukrainian painting teacher, arms crossed, standing behind me as I paint, watching my hand as I reach for color and hesitatingly move the brush across the canvas. Through a thick accent he almost barks, "Don't afraid!" He'll shake his head and I can feel his bewildered embarrassment by the meekness with which I use those same tools he has such an intimate and free relationship with. He'll step up to me and repeat again, "Don't afraid, don't afraid," and then show me how it's done.

"Don't afraid." I am not afraid of imperfection. I can take criticism, even rejection. The problem is, I want it to be on MY terms. To put myself out there -- whether painting or writing a blog -- risks exposure on everyone's terms BUT my own. The problem with a need for control and an instinct for self-preservation is, of course, stagnation. No risk, no movement.

So here goes. No qualifications; no disclaimers.

I will paint. I will write. You will watch. And I won't afraid.

Sunday, March 12, 2006

My Works--The Art Students League of NY

New York, NY
2005-2007
(click on image to enlarge)

This work follows a reverse order--beginning with the more recent work and ending with my first painting.

For the most part, my drawing and oil painting classes at the Art Students League were held five days a week, 3-1/2 hour sessions, with the teacher coming in to critique work twice a week. Classes were full--these are some great artist instructors--with about 32 students in a room. Much of my personal growth occured through daily practice and watching the better students in class as they worked.

The League has a great atmosphere and history. I have posted links to the League Web site and to those instructors who have their own Web sites.

Workshop with Leonid Gervits. August 2007. (unfinished)

Private instruction with Leonid Gervits. Winter 2006-07.

Instructor Dan Gheno. Winter 2006-07.

Instructor Dan Gheno. Winter 2006.

Instructor Dan Gheno. Sketch for painting. Winter 2006.

Instructor Dan Gheno. Life Drawing class. Summer 2006.

Perspective workshop with Alex Zwarenstein. Winter 2006.

Instructor Mary Beth McKenzie. 2006.

Instructor Mary Beth McKenzie. 2005.

Instructor Ephraim Rubenstein. 2005.

Instructor Rick Brosen. 2006.

Instructor George Cannata. 2005.

Instructor Ken McIndoe. My third painting. September 2004. (unfinished)

Instructor Ken McIndoe. My second painting. September 2004.

Instructor Ken McIndoe. My first painting. September 2004.

My Works--Bridgeview School of Fine Art

Queens, NY
2005-2006
(click on image to enlarge)

I saw an exhibit of Russian Impressionist art at the Smithsonian in March 2005 and was inspired to seek out Russian training specifically. Bridgeview is a school created in the Russian academic tradition. Classes were held at night, twice a week. This blog was first created in response to my experience at the school (read my first blog entry).

It is very common for the instructors to work on a student's drawing/painting. I wish I could claim these are 100% mine, but hands on instruction is a great learning tool.