I Am An Artist
In 2015 I decided I wanted to capture the elegance of my daughter jumping her horse so I started this watercolour painting. I was partway through a 10-session painting class and my dad passed away suddenly and unexpectedly. I was unable to pick up the watercolours again. A few years later, the painting and supplies sat unused and unfinished. I ended up selling all of my paints, brushes and canvases - and I trashed all of my paintings. I am thankful that I kept a photograph of this one because this painting reminds me that I am not an imposter. I AM an artist.
It is sad to think I missed out on the art therapy that could have helped me, but grief, illness (an autoimmune disorder), depression and many other stressors consumed my life. I worked hard at trying to ignore the constant fatigue I felt, but it caught up with me. I ended up with breast cancer and had to leave my job for treatment. That treatment combined with the autoimmune disorder and everything else took a heavy toll on my mind and body. But that diagnosis was also a turning point. I found better, healthier ways to deal with my grief and stress. Eventually, art became my best therapy.
I found an acrylic course online. I found out that a friend, a long time artist and interior designer, was taking the same course and she recommended it. She warned that to be successful, expensive supplies were required and the time commitment for learning and growth was heavy. Well, I had all the time in the world at this point, and I needed a focus, so I took the leap. At first it raised my anxiety, and it still does at times because I struggle with that imposter syndrome. Much of my work is derived from lessons and not my own design as I learn, but it is my work, from start to finish, and my instructor stresses over and over in her lessons, that I am an artist, and I do have skills and talent. It sure is funny how we can convince ourselves otherwise.
From kindergarten, through highschool; from college to motherhood, I have attempted to surface the buried artist in me. Lack of skill (lessons) and confidence were part of it but comparison is such a major factor. Others were better than me. There are so many artists that I admire deeply. I'll never be them. But I've learned I can be me and I can develop my own style as I learn and grow. As adults we are afraid to put ourselves out there when it comes to creativity. I started lessons a few times and created a few "masterpieces" (at least in my own mind) but even the thought of showing them to others reduced them to failures.
Although it has taken a very long time to gain enough confidence and success to put myself out there, I am proud of my journey and the happiness painting has brought me. Painting has become my therapy, a testament to the power of perseverance and the beauty of self-discovery. I am an artist, and it matters.