The Day that Art Blew my Mind

I took my first drawing class at age 38

Photo by Boston Public Library on Unsplash

I cried. Not because I was romanticizing or waxing poetic about the abundant beauty around me or anything, but because my brain was breaking open. New neural pathways were connecting and I couldn’t handle it. All I could do was cry and let it all integrate.

My partner, an established artist and local Arts Commissioner signed us up for a drawing date night at the Tacoma Arts Museum. They offer all sorts of classes, but we honed in on the nude model drawing.

I wasn’t familiar with anything other than the pencil and paper. There were charcoals, graphite sticks, gummies and erasers that I had to learn about for shading and blending. Ironically, I had been a nude model in college, but was never behind the easel.

There were no bad habits in my muscle memory to break. No preconceived notions on how to draw, just a raw curiosity and a willingness to try. Up until that day, my illustrative skill stopped at stick drawings.

Throughout the 2-hour experience, I practiced all sorts of techniques. I was in a class with real, practiced artists who had decades of skill in their fingertips (my partner included.) The model had curves and muscle and a wonderful ability to stay still.

I was really proud of the progress I was able to make in just 2 hours! I even made some drawings that look human! I learned that I’m not very good with the whole armpit-to-boob thing, but I couldn’t believe what got onto that paper by my own hand. Check in out!

Can you believe I ACTUALLY DREW THESE?