My earliest memory of doing anything that can be vaguely artistic is making an orange crayon etching on printer paper over a plastic tiger animal shape. The most prominent memory is making paint splatters on a large butterfly cut-out's wing and then the teacher folding it over to make the wings match. My grandma had my grandpa pinned it high on the wall of their home and it stayed there until they moved to London just 10 or 11 years later.
Sadly, I'm no artist, in any sense of the word. I pretty much haven't used any paint since I was in pre-GCSE art, my hands have never been deft enough to fully control the brushes. As proof of this, I always end up botching up my hands when I try to use nail varnish.
I occasionally get the urge to see if I have any talent when it comes to drawing so I keep a pad of plain paper and some pencils which I occasionally sketch with. I've had the damn thing for over 4 years now but it only has something like five drawings max. The most recent is a sketch of Pete Wentz's head 'n shoulders taken off a LJ community. I have proved to myself time and time again that I'm no good at drawing if there's nothing for me to reference. It's annoying as I get inspiration to draw almost as much as I get inspired to write. I've always been aware of how lacking my abilities with a pencil are so I've never acted on those random moments. If I did, I'm certain that I'd end up frustrated.
No comments:
Post a Comment