i'm studying painting, drawing, and printmaking with a minor in museum studies.
the goal is to someday work in a museum, where i can be surrounded by art and talk about art all day. and then go home and make art.
my future house needs an art studio, a room that can be as messy as it needs to be, where i can throw paint or paint on the walls or floor if a canvas just isn't tickling my fancy.
i love having paint or pencil smeared on my hands.
i love color.
making art gives me a chance to be alone with my thoughts;
to make sense of the world.
if you flip through my sketchbook, you will find chalk scribbles and fancy freehand pen drawings. you will find quotes and words that inspire me. you will find quick sketches i've tucked away to finish another day. you will find my life in pictures.
lately i have been what i call art-starving.
i haven't made art in far too long, and all summer, i've been worried.
actually, i've been worried since the day i decided to pursue the study of art.
what if i'm not cut out for this?
what if i'm only mediocre?
then today i found this:
it made me feel better.
because sometimes i am scared to death. it's terrifying to present your work to a professor. as helpful as critiques are, there's always the chance that someone is going to rip apart a piece you've put your heart into. when i make art, it's for a reason. it means something to me. but sometimes it's just for me. what do i say when asked to explain one of those pieces?
art is scary.
art is wonderful.
art is life.
i'll leave you with a little drawing i found in my sketchbook the other day.
it made me happy:)
this post was the cheese, and for that, i apologize.
i've realized that i am quite the overdramatic child.
but that's okay.