I did this painting in class today.  It took about 2.5 hours and it was pure torture.  For starters, I had to draw with a paint brush because I did not bring charcoal or a pencil, and then the pot was just too complicated.  The odd little glass cap fit into a brass-like top with many rings, and I kept getting lost trying to render the different rings. The spout and the handle were a different material and don’t even look like they belong.

My instructor was quite amused by my exasperation and I wanted to quit and walk out. He would throw out affirmations that bounced off me. This painting was over my head. I was not a painter. My face burned as I looked at the subject set before me. I was supposed to paint that!

The background in the set-up was actually a dull brown, but my stupid pot disappeared when I tried to keep the colors accurate.  I wasn’t even halfway finished when there was only thirty minutes left to work. The whole thing gave me a good taste of my incompetence in several areas: drawing, perspective, color-mixing, brushwork, and attitude.  My attitude sucks…

I have a lot of issues to work through, but the biggest problem in my life is my attitude.  You can call it insecurity if you like, but if you believe you are a failure and no good at what you really want to do, then the climb out of that pit is a treacherous one.  The pit I fall into is deep and slick.

I got so angry at my confusion today, that it forced me to try to finish just to spite myself.  The other student quietly painted while I freaked out. The pink background was a way of using a huge glob of paint I mixed that was useless. The teacher was noticeably surprised I finished by the end of class. I did more in the last twenty minutes than I had for the first two hours.  My complaints were many and he got a good taste of what he is up against having me as a student. Before I left I told him not to let me quit.

I am a serial quitter and this is probably the biggest thing in my life I have successfully avoided by quitting before even giving myself a real chance. I have been told not to expect too much of myself, but those words sting. I had big dreams in my youth of being an artist and selling my work to strangers who would look at it every day. That seemed like the most wondrous thing.

If I am to continue to paint, I have to stop driving myself down. When will I face my canvas with a small semblance of confidence?  I can’t quit.  There is something worth fighting for inside of me.  I just know it.

This is the finished piece.  I adjusted a few areas and signed it  The glare is not as bad in this photo. It was a small victory. I’ll take it.