Becoming an Artist. Part 1
Is that even possible? Arent artists born that way? Can someone who does not have a formal artistic education even call themselves an artist?
When I was a kid, I often found myself drawing something, just like many children do. Shapes, flowers, faces, etc. In a drawing class at school, if memory serves me, my drawings were often brought as an example to the children in the class. Did I dream about becoming an artist then? I can’t remember.
Fast forward a couple of decades, and I work at a large multinational company. I run to the office every morning, draft papers, make phone calls, meet with clients, go to business dinners, wear smart clothes, drive a corporate car, go on business trips in different countries.
Did I think then: “maybe I should have become an artist”? I can assure you, I did not. I didn’t even have time to look at myself in the mirror and ask whether I was doing what I wanted to do and if that was the lifestyle I had envisaged for myself. I don’t think I was happy though. I burnt out, started to make mistakes, got fired. Then came new jobs… rinse, repeat. I was exhausted mentally and physically, felt distressed and insecure. I felt my life was a catastrophe.
After a while, I made a decision to abandon the corporate life and work for myself. I am quite good at the English language, having had a linguistic education. So, I started to give private lessons. I quite enjoyed that, and still do. My students appreciate my ability to make them feel the language, its mentality, which is important when you attempt to learn it.
Working for myself, and seeing tangible improvement in my students, I found peace of mind and became a self-sufficient person again. I started to enjoy who I am and learned to appreciate little things around. The stress and insecurity gradually left my system giving way to creative forces that were lingering within. I had much more time for myself, and suddenly I felt an urge to create, to make something with my hands. I started to do all sort of DIY things like crocheting, baking sourdough bread, embroidering… I was surprised at myself as I never ever thought I was good at anything handmade. My family looked at me as if I came from another planet when I presented them with yet another creation of mine.
One day I uncovered some long-forgotten watercolor paints and brushes in the back of my closet. I sat down and started to play with colors…
Stay tuned for the rest of the story in the Part 2
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