i like art

Since I had no work for about a week, I wandered about Columbus aimlessly because sitting at home with nothing to do is, unsurprisingly, boring. On the way home from the social security office (I lost my card…again), I noticed that the Columbus Museum of Art has banners up stating that admission was free for July and August thanks to a grant. Well, it was August 29th, and I figured I should probably shuffle my way on in.

The museum wasn’t really set up the way I’m used to with museums. The first floor is pretty much dedicated to family exhibits. The second floor was more my speed, particularly the Big Room o’ Renaissance Paintings. there was a room devoted to Picasso and his contemporaries, but I’m just not that big a fan of his. Although one painting was rather grand – Two Figures and a Cat. Cats are such jerks.

I wish I could wax poetic about art, because I really do enjoy it. Alas, I’m a more casual observer in the field now that I’m not trying to be an artist myself. I thoroughly enjoy Renaissance paintings and I can’t even properly articulate why beyond, “They’re pretty.” Maybe I was a Renaissance painter once upon a time. Or maybe I was in love with one. In any case, I like art and I don’t really have to explain why.

art

I used to be an artist. I wasn’t particularly amazing, and I certainly wasn’t the next Picasso, but I enjoyed drawing and painting more than most other subjects in school. Drawing from memory was hard (I suspect because I don’t actually look directly at most people) but given a photograph or looking in person, I could recreate a scene with alarming precision. Several of my family members have artistic leanings as well, though none of them really pursued it for various reasons. My great grandmother encouraged me to make art my career, and for a long while, I thought that’s what I would do.

Then I tried my hand at writing.

Almost the second I started to write, I stopped drawing. From fifth grade on, it was all about words and stories and characters and settings. My art supplies gathered dust. Every few years I’d get the notion in my head that I’d get back into art and become an author/illustrator, so I would buy new supplies and try for about an hour before getting frustrated and moving on. I’ve forgotten essentially everything I ever learned about drawing, and that makes me very sad. Yet again, I’ve gotten it in my head that I can get back to art. I bought a big black sketchbook like I used to have in elementary school. I’ve got colored pencils and markers and my favorite kind of wooden pencils.

I haven’t drawn a single thing in nearly a year.

But this time, it’ll be different! I’m going to try to draw more, and I’m going to try to write more while I’m at it. It’s unacceptable to me that now I’m doing neither. So why not try to do both?