Making a Mess

When I was a child, I went to Catholic school with all my older brothers and sisters.  I was the youngest of eight.  When I got to a nun, she'd usually been 'broken in' by my older siblings and sometimes it was hard to live through.  Sister Celine was an art teacher.  I'm not sure she was a good art teacher, but she was what I had in second grade.

As an eight year old, I must not have displayed much in the way of artistic talent.  In those days, no one worried about crushing your feelings.  Kids were allowed to fail.  And although she didn't fail me in second grade art, she did give me a D.  Now, in my household, grades were key.  You didn't get D's.  Certainly, not in art.  I remember that spanking like it was yesterday.  I never took another art class.  If there was a way out of it, I figured a way.  I took six years of speech therapy and convinced my school guidance counselor that it was best if it was scheduled during art class.  I wouldn't miss much that way.

As I became older, I had a little more control over my class assignments.  I never once took an art class.

I love art.  I've dragged my family through every art exhibit within a hundred mile radius of my home, in every state I've ever lived in.  I took art appreciation in college and studied the lives of the great masters, and their most famous works of art.  I've seen bronzes poured and glass blown.  All art fascinates me.

Finally, after forty years of avoidance techniques, I decided to take a class on oil painting.  I learned how to paint using a pallet knife.  My canvasses are kind of Picasso-esque, more LeRoy Neiman than Michelangelo.  They seem to do well in children's rooms.  Kids are very forgiving about art.  If they like the colors, or can even tell what it's supposed to be a picture of, they're happy.

I wish Sister Celine had been more childlike in her treatment of art.  Maybe it wouldn't have taken me so long to get my hands dirty.  Today, I'm making a mess.  I've got my easel set up and all my bright oils laid out.  I'm going to paint some pictures for my grandson.  He likes trucks, cars and earth moving equipment.  I'm sure he won't care if I don't stay between the lines.

--Sandee Wagner