The class begins on Tuesday...I'm so excited to begin..off shopping with my daughter tomorrow to pick up the last few art supplies I need and then I'M READY...
I will be posting my thoughts as I make my way through and posting photos of the process and finished projects as well...eekkkk...be patient with me, its a learning thing..
It has been a very long time coming..when I was young, like 1st, 2nd and 3rd grade, my Mom sent me to art classes. For me she might as well have been sending me away to some unknown place, as it felt to me more like I was being punished for something...but that was in the beginning...on my first day, after much crying and begging I am sure, we pulled up to this old 2 story house, that for a youngster looked in a way, like the "Addams Family House", for those of you who remember that show..but not quite as big, and it was green instead of gray weather beaten cracked wood. I remember asking myself as a 6 year old, little redheaded girl, standing on the sidewalk of a busy street, just staring at this house, I'm supposed to go in there? After some plodding by my Mom no doubt, we made our way to the door, rang the bell and as that big door started to open, creaking all the way, I wonder now...did I cover my eyes? I will have to ask my Mom...if I did, all these years later, I am truly embarrassed! I divert...you might as well get used to it, I tend to be known for that...as I was saying, the creaking door opens and there stands this, in my opinion at the time, ancient woman. She was a rather large woman in height and fairly stout in weight, with grey hair and glasses. Her face was not necessarily a friendly face, but the face you see on an old woman who doesn't particularly care for young children. Did I bury my head in my Mom's skirt? She invited us in to her home and as I walked in it felt as if I had entered another world and one that didn't look like this woman would inhabit. For all around me were paintings...paintings of all kinds and in all phases of completion. I mostly remember the smell, I still remember it to this day very fondly. It was that mesmerizing smell of turpentine and oil paint..of course at the time I didn't know that is what is was, but rather, knew that I liked it, in fact loved it. I felt my fingers start to loosen the clamped grasp they had on my mother, and as I turned to face this woman, her face softened...she recognizing that I would soon come to love my time with her, in this place..
Her name was Francis Klobacher and she was not just my art teacher...she saw in me things I couldn't know about myself at the age of 6...she is long since gone now, but I think of her often and the time I shared with her...I hope to see you again someday Francis and I hope that in heaven you are able to get your hands on a computer and watch me create...after all you started it!