Things I want to be when I grow up: a Painter/Artist.Posted: April 7, 2012
I love paintings. I love art. I took art history and spent the whole class giggling at the idea that besides some essays the entire syllabus consisted of me going to different art museums and still getting actual credit for it. It was kinda awesome. That is why, when I grow up, I want to be a painter. I want to be one of those really cool artiste painters that don’t appear to do anything except sleep and say oblique things about the universe when they really spend all their time in their studios creating masterpieces. I also kinda want to use my fingers to paint and have an excuse to make a mess like a five year old……..just saying.
Since I am sort of an artsy person to begin with I did think for a while that I would probably be a pretty good painter as well. Artsy stuff is kinda my talent. I might not be the next Leonardo, but I at least thought I could draw something halfway decent. I write pretty well. I play music pretty well. I cook pretty well. I sew pretty well. Artsy is my thing…..also I like that coffee.
Sometimes I will get all inspired and see something and be like Yeah. I can go home and get my sketch pad out and draw that. I have thoughts. I see things in my mind that I could paint. After the potential painting buzz goes away I remember: I can’t paint worth shit.
I really can’t. When I was little my mother always despaired of me ever learning to color inside the lines. She occasionally retells that story and continues to say that you can’t teach a know it all. I like to think that painting outside the lines made me a rebel and made me cool and out of the box. It actually just proved I’m a very bad painter.
I really don’t get perspective. I don’t understand how to make things I see to look the same on the page. Since I’m impatient that leads me to get rather frustrated and decide to go write a story about whatever I’m thinking about instead. I do wish I could be a painter when I grow up though. I love writing, but sometimes I wish I could just see what I’m thinking instead of trying to describe it in one concise well-formed paragraph. Paintings don’t work that well if they are described. People usually say “You’ve gotta see it”.
It makes no sense to me, and is probably a sick joke played by God because of that one time I took that candy bar from that discount store, that I cannot actually paint. I’m a visual learner, I think. I hate reading from text books, which is probably why I loved art history so much. Pictures! I like to see things. If you show me how to do something, I will probably remember it. If you tell me to read about it, and the thing you’re asking me to read about is how to clean your shower drain, I will definitely forget. I will start thinking about something else as soon as I read the first sentence. When I play the piano, I can see notes on the page. It’s not like a long lengthy description of pitch and its relativity to the keys. I can watch my hand move. I know by feel where they should go. By all accounts, I should be a good painter. But I’m not.
So, Therefore, when I grow up, I want to be a painter. I want to spend days thinking about colors and textures and be limited only by my imagination.
I also love renaissance art because they were big on bigger women. One of my favorite Dawn French quotes is this: “If I had been around when Rubens was painting, I would have been revered as a fabulous model. Kate Moss? Well, she would have been the paintbrush.” Amen. I would be like a goddess in Renaissance times. People would shower me with chocolate and worship my visage.
I don’t discriminate against women of any size and neither should anyone else. If you happen to be really skinny, than that’s just the way you are. If you’re a more voluptuous person than A: I hate you (just kidding) and B: that’s just the way you are. Every since the world decided that skinny was perfect, everyone felt worse about themselves. Voluptuous women weren’t appreciated or did not appreciate themselves. I’m not against skinny women, I just think the skinny monopolization of what is ‘beautiful’ is unnecessary and limits us. If we were to accept beauty in all sorts of people, there would be more beauty.
In that vein, here is an interesting article I read on the internet a couple of days ago. It’s about this women who photoshopped classical nudes of women. She skinnified them.
I will be a painter when I grow up. But for now, I’ll just be me. Which one of me I’ll be today, I’m not sure.
Here’s looking at you.