Tuesday, 15 May 2012

Artistic frustration

Why can I not be excellent at everything immediately? Why? Why is this?

I went to art class. This was my fourth one, sort of. Technically it's my third because I almost projectile vomited in class number three and had to leave forthwith.

By the end of art class I have usually drawn a rough approximation of the naked person and am have thoroughly enjoyed myself.

This week was a different matter. For some reason what I saw would not translate to the page. I couldn't do it. I just couldn't do it. I have now decided that the most frustrating thing in the world (for today at least) is looking at something, drawing it and then realising that it's just all wrong. I honestly drew her face about twelve times and kept rubbing it out. Perspective is a bitch.

The model was lying with her feet towards me, on an angle. I could see where the foreshortening should be. I could see the axis she was lying on. I could see how perspective tipped her head back. I just couldn't draw it.

It's incredibly disheartening when you're surrounded by really talented people making it look easy. My lovely art teacher kept showing me what to do and I kept fucking it up.Over and over again. I was getting properly ragey. And by the end of two hours all I had to show was a badly shaded torso and legs.

Graghghghghghgh. I have never enjoyed show and tell less. You should see what some people produce. Proper little works of art. When Mr Teacher got to mine he did a sort of diplomatic bit about how everyone has a bad day, bless him. Seeing everyone else's stuff just made me more frustrated. And more determined.

I have decided it's like learning the violin. I did this. I started when I was four and by the time I was about 12 I was really freaking good at it. But for the first eight years I sucked. Everyone does pretty much. You ever heard a kid play the violin below around Grade 5 standard? Fucking awful it sounds. I pity all the parents who have to sit through concerts of that shit and pretend to enjoy themselves.

So, my point is, I may be shit now, but I am going to be able to draw one day. Even if it takes eight bastard years.

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