From too shy to pillow talk: my 40-year courtship with ART.

ART is a very handsome, beautiful person, let’s say. “They” are the crush of my youth, the one that got away, an unrequited love, the unattainable, the coveted, the eternally desirable relationship of my life. I have wanted to be with ART for as long as I can remember. They asked me out on a date for the millionth time and I finally had the guts to say YES.

When I was a child, I played with ART every day. (We all did.) I wasn’t scared of dancing with this perfect thing, this gift from inside and from god-knows-where. I wanted ART and ART wanted me. It would come in like rays of sun on the pages and I didn’t for one second question or consider where the source may be. The relationship was pure and uninhibited. A mark on the page was light and effortless. Coloring in the lines, coloring out of the lines, none of it mattered. All that mattered was us.

I have a vivid-like-yesterday memory of a coloring contest I had with Jay and Leah in the 1st grade. Jay asked Leah and I to choose a coloring page and he was going to judge our work. I don’t remember what she chose, I just remember what she did was beautiful.

I remember a lot about mine, though: a skunk was a fireman. He wore a hat and he was putting out fire with a firehouse on a second floor. Wafts of smoke filled the sky. The edge of the page cut off a cloud of smoke, so, I thought “a-ha!— I completed said cloud poof with a dark line, coloring it in with gray.

Jay was impressed by both of our coloring pages. BUT, Leah won because “Erin went out of the lines.” That damn gray poof did me in. Jay and Leah were my close friends and I don’t remember being upset—but clearly, I bookmarked this moment in time for some reason. Maybe I felt embarrassed by something I thought was good. Maybe I felt wrong and exposed. Maybe I felt like Eve when she realized that she was naked in the garden and maybe that wasn’t okay, after all.

You know those titles/awards they give you in the yearbook during your senior year? Well, in High School, Tony and I received “Most Artistic.” I knew FOR SURE that Tony deserved it. His drawings were everywhere, his abilities were awesome. To this day, I can’t figure out why I got it. I suppose I drew on things once in awhile. And I played the violin. But I didn’t take a single art class other than Photography. It was almost embarrassing to be noticed alongside Tony, the obvious choice. I was being noticed for something and I remember it made me uneasy. ART was asking me out but I was too shy to even look up.

Some formal training came to me at Hobart and William Smith Colleges’ Art Department. A handful of classes with gifted teachers taught me about drawing, color, sculpting, learning the rules but pushing creative boundaries. The desire in me was overwhelming but I had little strength and stamina to dive in the way so many others could. I made a few successful pieces, one of which was included in the group show, but I was far from accomplished. I was far from feeling worthy of creating anything, really. I wanted ART to pick me but they wanted someone else.

15 years later In Sonoma, California I took a single class with Alex Cole. We painted a pear. We drew it first. Then added watery layers. Then texture. Then it was a free-for-all. It was thrilling and informative to watch Alex wield her materials as I fumbled around mine. (With sheer joy, mind you.) Surprised and delighted, I looked up at ART shyly, but with curiosity. I kinda like you. A lot.

That same year, I was sitting alone in my big kitchen. I didn’t have a thing to do (which was rare). I sat. Silently. I remembered how fun it was to throw paint around in Alex’s class. I hopped up as if on fire and I found something to paint. You know those back/mount boards that are on the back of picture frames? I pulled the unnecessary parts off of one and despite the big holes that were left, I grabbed a giant brush and painted on it with off-white Benjamin Moore wall paint. While it was still wet, I began making marks in it with a pencil. I had little control and was enjoying it. So much of my life was controlled, and this… well, this was freedom from all that. I let them grab my hand, right then. Sure, just one date.

(It was also on this day I told myself, “I will paint for real, one day.” )

Years later, I became a part of redFish Art Studios. I first reached out to owner Alix Martin because I wanted to teach violin or even write a book. I wanted a creative place outside of my home to dream up next steps in my life. Even though I was tiptoeing around the idea, ART came back to me that day. It wasn’t long until I began to paint.

I took a few 1:1 lessons with Alix. (Will all my teachers be named Alex/Alix?) She put me through necessary lessons in drawing, SEEING, and painting in different mediums. She taught me about the business of Art, too. Her lessons still help me, every day. It wasn’t long before ART and I began to go steady. I am yours and you are mine.

I sold one of my first paintings after taking a class with the lovely Jen Dembik at Musejar, an art supply store and workshop space owned by the wonderful, Vanessa Frost. The class was called, Zen Painting. Jen guided us through a meditation to clear our minds. We then created a picture that reminded me of my days as a child—with zero inhibitions and maximum bravery. After working the piece we began a bit more, I sold it to a collector of my work. Let’s move in together! Okay.

Art and I are now settling into our boring, beautiful years. We have coffee together in the mornings. We listen to each other tell mundane stories about the most personal things in life. We are dancing to a slow song now, enjoying each other’s unique company. We pillow talk at night. I will love you til the day I die. And forever after that.

I have a new teacher now, a woman who has been with ART for a long time, Katrina Brees. She is taking me through more of the grit, the work, the love of this ART relationship. I hope to always have a teacher, a counselor, a guide. I hope to dance into my golden years with ART, forever enjoying their company. I hope to remember each bookmarked page of our relationship and feel love, nostalgia, and gratitude.

Thanks for reading,
e