Each day is a little life; every waking and rising a little birth; every fresh morning a little youth; every going to rest and sleep a little death.
– ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER
When Holly tweeted out the theme for this week, patience, I was finishing my second art lesson. I have been trying to be an artist my whole life. My father is an artist, and I want to grow up to be like him. Art takes patience. And I am not sure I have what it takes.
During this second lesson, our instructor asked us to draw an image from a photograph. He wanted us to use shading to show form. He said the word form over and over again. I think he became frustrated with me, but you would never know it. He has a calm demeanor. Patience is so important to any kind of teaching.
I wasn’t quite sure how to start or how to proceed. I was stuck with what I knew before of contour drawing. I was not familiar with his method. So he took my tablet and drew, hatching and shading. The drawing that looked like a cartoon to me began to take shape and form. I was watching a miracle. I still have no idea how to make that happen when the pencil is in my own hand.
Patience.
I have no patience with myself.
I want to be good now, but I avoid the practice that it takes.
In our limited human minds, we see bits and pieces of the whole. We see small miracles every day. God can see the whole. God knows the big picture. God is our artist.
In my impatience, I want to know now. I want to be good and right and perfect. Ah, me. That is not possible. The only real perfection is with God. In the meantime, I will continue to strive for the best, trying to remember that the Great Artist isn’t finished with me yet.
“Don’t look at your feet to see if you are doing it right. Just dance.”
― Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life
Margaret, this is odd. I wrote a comment this morning and it is not here. Your post allowed me to start my day in a very reflective mood so thank you for that. (You revealed a side of you that I did not know: an artist.) In reply to your post, I think there is a bit of impatience in many of us. Perhaps, it is because we care so much for the profession we believe in. The line that I want to come back to I look at as a prayer of thanks at the end of my day: I will continue to strive for the best (Lord), trying to remember that (you) the Great Artist isn’t finished with me yet. Thank you, Margaret. I guess the Lord really wanted me to return to your blog for a second time.
Thanks for taking the time to return and comment. Traveling today so I can’t check on the problem.
Well this is novel. You come across as accomplished and confident, so it’s interesting to see this side of you, Margaret.
Your reaction to your art lessons reminds me of what it felt like to take some ballroom dancing lessons with my husband some years back. I’m naturally uncoordinated, so these lessons took me back to the feelings you describe — of impatience to get it, feeling clueless and klutzy, afraid that I’ll totally tax my instructor’s patience… Maybe as a teacher, it’s a good thing to experience this other side of learning, Gives us empathy for students.
I’m sure you’ll get it! Just be patient 😉 Love the quotes you give as well.
It is easy to lose patience with our own seeming incompetence, but we have to learn that we are not incompetent, just unpracticed. Reminds me of that old joke, “Hey, Mister, can you tell me how to get to Carnegie Hall?” “Sure. Practice, practice, practice.”