taught myself

 I’ll tell you a crazy story, I’m not classically trained in any of the art forms I partake of. I didn’t go to university or collage, I have a high school diploma. (Along with a few certificates from programs that have nothing specific to do with art.) I’ve had various art teachers over the years, from a young age till I was 18, but truly most of what I can do, what is truly unique to my style and fortitude, I taught myself. The last time someone mentored me in my creative process I was 18, and I am now well into my twenties. 

I was taught the basics, the foundations, just enough to get myself started, and from there I’ve had to teach myself anything else I’ve wanted to know. I’ve done a lot with the tools I was given. Whether it was trial and error, of which there was much error, or the bare minimum research and then some more trial and error. I’m quite stubborn, and impatient for that matter, and would rather cram and contort what little concrete skills and knowledge I’ve been given into whatever it is I want to create. Even when the root of said knowledge and skills were learnt for a completely different task and purpose. 

Given about 5 classes of Home Ec. with the sewing machine, were I leaned the basic uses and functions. For there I went on to trouble shot and practically fix my great-grandmothers sewing machine which I had inherited. Through the power of google and youtube I found my way to the knowledge of how to circumvent what was stopping me from sewing. I was 12. 

I was, and am, quite stubborn and will go to great lengths to figure something out if it bothers me enough. Its a strength and weakness wrapped in one. It’s great in moments like those, but it means I have to be really put out to be that tenacious. I have to have a full blown bee in my bonnet to be that kind of stubborn, and sometimes the stubbornness gets away for me and ends up in places it shouldn’t be. Like refusing to return to my proven morning routine because I know it will take a few days to take effect and prove beneficial. A gift with teeth. 

Obviously somewhere along the way, in school, someone taught me how to read and write, some proved to be better at it then others but that’s besides the point. The point being that I again was taught the basics, for grammar and proper diction of the time I’ve lived in. The rest of this, where my blog comes from and the novel I’m writing, that comes from having read close to hundreds of books. (At this point I’ve just about lost count but I know for certain it’s past in numbers of 200.) I didn’t start reading because I wanted to write, far from it really, I just liked the stories an abnormal amount. It’s where my vocabulary comes from as well. So I didn’t set out to teach myself to write through consuming books, but it has been the most profitable side effect. I will admit to doing some real research and leaning after my first attempts at story telling specially. The rest has been practice. 

The basics of painting and visual art, such as composition, contrast, colour, form, perspective, lighting, ect, I leaned in high school. To be more specific I leaned the instinct for them throughout years of practice and bi-weekly art classes. Learnt the words for them in high school and have since gone on to force them to do my bidding and floundered their value in my twenties. But it's okay because I no longer accept my creative process as a sprint, it is now accepted as a marathon of life long commitment. 

So I am not classically trained in any way that I can attest to, however my tenacity and stubborn nature have made up for it. Honestly if I’m feeling stubborn enough I can do just about anything I set my mind to. Including, but not limited to, writing an entire novel without a single graded writing corse. Even having to be re-taught how to write and spell at the age of 11 didn’t stop me from doing far better in school than any of my teachers expected me to. I’m not bragging, (at least I’m not meaning to,) I simply wanted to explain how I got here. Writing a weekly blog and pursuing a “career” in novel writing. Suppose it could simply be summed up in being a suborn person. 

Crazy story, not being classically trained, but being mentored mildly throughout the years. From different people, who had different intentions, and probably had no idea what it would lead to for my life. I am, in the creative process specially, a product of the old adage, “it takes a village,”  and I can honestly say I’m proud to feel like I’m doing them justice. To still, despite all challenges, obstacles, and discouragement, be in the constant and stubborn pursuit of the arts in every place I can be. 

So truly my intent with this post has turned into a letter of affection for those who have help me teach myself. Who only gazed with wonder at my stubbornness and not berated me for my dreaming. For the dreams of the faithful will be made tangible, if for only a bit of courage.