I used to love art at school like a lot of people. The battle with confidence and the euphoria of success I felt during those classes has stayed with me. Something poignant I remember one of my art teachers saying too, "stop drawing in the corners of your pages. Draw right in the middle, and bigger. Be bold". Maybe a standard piece of advice for budding artists, but it rang true for my life, and helped me try and shuffle away from the edges. Even the room was special - incredibly high ceiling, beautiful art everywhere, paint splattered boards, and large windows looking out over the tops of trees. Washing brushes and boards at the huge farm-kitchen sink you could see a small courtyard when the trees would have blossom in the spring. The class was full of very talented people. I sat next to a particularly gifted girl and shared her ipod during the better lessons. There is a strong longing i hold for that classroom - those serene hours of music mixed with art.
So here I am. Scrabbling for time between tasks at work, grasping at a skill and pleasure long gone, because I know that those days cannot be out of reach. Perhaps one day I will have more time, more skill, and maybe even a room of my own to work on my art in. Perhaps i will meet great people again to work alongside and share that space with. But for now, I work. I work hard to keep the dream, once tasted, alive.