Not too much scares me.
And what does scare me I, I’m sure, also scares many of you. The thought of losing my home. A medical test gone bad. Root canals.
But each of us has our own quirky sense of the terrifying. Say, for instance, the photo of Shel Silverstein on the back of “Where the Sidewalk Ends”.
Because he looks slightly demonic, that’s why.
As I approach my forty-mmmmppph birthday, I have decided I need to better live up to the magnet on my refrigerator (because if you are to aspire highly, refrigerator magnets are the authoritative source—just my professional opinion). It says: “Do one thing every day that scares you.”
Every day might be overdoing it just a teensy bit so I’ve decided once a month works.
Because I’m the boss of me, that’s why.
I think I’m going to begin with art.
For reasons I will not go into (ok, if you insist—Deborah somebody or another, the busybody that sat next to me in kindergarten art class and led a full-blown table rebellion against my purple reindeer and coloring outside of the lines, as well as Mary Ann from third grade who mocked my scarecrow to my face, without knowing I was the one who made it), I fear drawing and painting.
My father was a talented artist with a good eye. Genetics tell me I have a decent chance of the same. Past experience tells me—well, I can’t hear it over the loud laughing.
When I play Pictionary, my dog is mistaken for a camel, my teapot for an ostrich. My renderings have not improved with age.
Last year, a friend suggested we celebrate by doing a dinner and art combo. It sounded terrifying. And I opted for just eating and drinking (which I’m really quite good at); I scored a 10 out of 10 from my fellow diners.
But this year, I might just be willing to don a beret and get messy. These dinner and painting evenings, many held at good restaurants, have such innocuous names–Bottle and Botega, Pinot’s Palette, Cork & Canvas—that I feel silly for holding out any longer.
If the end product is horrible, my compatriots might just assume I had a little too much vino. Or that I forgot my much-needed eyeglasses.
Or, the new brave me may just tell them I have other talents. And that the purple blob they see might be a reindeer, or it might not. Either way, bringing it to life on canvas should unleash all sorts of wonderful creative juices.
Abstractionism is making a comeback, right?
candidkay 
Brilliant post! Just go for it, as they used to say. I have just got back into drawing and I am a tad past the big 5 oh! But how I am enjoying myself and find I just cannot stop now I have started, cheered on by lovely bloggers who ‘like’ my drawings and say encouraging things. Thank you for visiting my little blog 🙂
This is such a lovely post! Wine and art sound like a really good pairing. I sort of have the same relationship with art. I started watercolor painting and I love it. It’s so relaxing and even though I’m not any good I still paint. I read about it, watch YouTube videos, and just practice, practice, practice. Good luck!
Bravo to you for being brave and giving it a try. That’s where I need to get to–to do it for the joy it brings, not to measure up to a bar.
I applaud your desire to scare yourself. As an artist, I can tell you the blank page is a scary thing. I highly recommend “Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain” by Betty Edwards. Remember; art is an OPINION. There is no such thing as right or wrong and there are no answers in the back of the book.
Thank you for the book rec! I will definitely check it out.
What scares me? Really big spiders and losing everything I’ve worked for.
Soooo with you on the spiders:)
Ha!! Abstract is where it’s at…..have fun and don’t listen to that inner critic when you paint!
I think I can relate — art (music in my case) is definitely the most difficult thing I do. It’s funny that my knee-jerk reaction is to view my artistic pursuits as frivolous because I don’t (except very rarely) get paid for them, even though they involve much more demanding work than writing legal papers or the other sorts of things I tend to do for money.