When I was very young, perhaps eight years old, I liked Mickey Mouse a lot. Early on, I happened to acquire step-by-step instructions for drawing the face of Mickey Mouse. An oval here, a circle there, connecting lines here, here and here, and - voila! Mickey Mouse. It was magic.
And I was the magician.
I repeated that process over and over, in no way tiring of seeing Mickey's face emerge at my command. 1 day while doing the magic at school, 1 of my little pals saw it and asked in awe, "Did you do that?" I proudly admitted I had. He called over some a lot more buddies and they were all equally impressed. They called me an artist.
And I believed them.
With that type of encouragement, I sought out the directions and mastered the drawing of the faces of Donald Duck and Goofy. Now I had a repertoire.
It wasn't long prior to my teacher saw what I could do and said, "My! What an artist you are!"
And I believed her.
I absolutely loved becoming the magician who could create something from absolutely nothing.
1 day I was bragging to my younger sister, Cathy, about what a wonderful artist I was, when my mother overheard me. She had studied at an art school immediately after high school and decided I needed a reality check. So she sat me down with a pad of paper and a pencil, put my sister in front of me and told me to draw Cathy.
I did, and the result looked strangely like George Washington. (Lest you think my sister is some genetic deviant, she in no way did resemble George Washington.)
That was fine. I was suitably humbled by the experience. But a couple of months later there was a contest in our school to draw a picture of George Washington in honor of the upcoming anniversary of his birth. I submitted the picture of Cathy. And I won initial prize. Now the whole school knew that I was an artist.
And I believed them.
A few years later my mother gave me her old oil painting set and I dabbled at that from time to time. 1 day I had an notion for a painting and squeezed out the paints for it on my pallet. At the last minute I decided I didn't really feel like painting, but realized I couldn't leave the paints to waste. So I took the paints and smeared them on an old framed corkboard in my room. A year or two later Mom suggested I enter that painted corkboard in the five county art contest. I did and I won initial prized for my "abstract painting." Now my reputation as an artist was securely established.
Years passed and I began university as a Marine Biology main but the tug of my initial adore, becoming the magician, wouldn't leave me. I switched to be an Art key. When I got in my first drawing class I saw the amazing work other people were doing although my clumsy function still reminded me of the George Washington--Cathy picture. I was not the good artist I had thought I was. I was ashamed of my lack of talent. I changed majors to Graphic Style where I wouldn't have to draw, but could still be creative and work with the images of others, not my own.
But I couldn't hide from drawing forever. 1 of the courses I had to take for my Graphic Style degree was Illustration, and I couldn't steer clear of it forever. In it, I had to confront my old demon: drawing. An intriguing factor happened, though. Even though I wasn't gifted, I recognized that I had returned to my initial adore, the magic of creating images.
Near the end of that course I heard that my illustration teacher was telling his other classes about an unnamed student of his that "couldn't draw a stick figure with out a ruler" but still managed to create beneficial images due to the fact he could "outsmart what he couldn't do with native ability" and simply because "he was willing to put in the time until it was ideal." I was certain he was talking about me.
Somewhat offended, I confronted my teacher and asked if I was the person he had been talking about. He said I was. I asked him what he meant by his statement. He told me, "Michael, there are three qualities that assure success in the arts. They are: 1) talent, 2) an capacity to accomplish laterally what you can't do directly, and 3) a passion for the work that compels you to work until it is correct. If you only have 1 of those qualities you just won't make it in the arts--even if that good quality is talent!" Then he looked at me seriously and said, "Michael, you have the last two qualities. You just may possibly make it."
I have pondered that counsel a great number of times and think it to be true. Over the years given that then, I have come to think that talent is not a mystic endowment which is either present or not in a person at birth. I believe talent is merely an understanding or skill already acquired.
In the decades given that my reawakening to a passion for creating images, I have learned quite a few abilities and grown in understanding. I have had to struggle to gain every bit of visual knowledge, but have usually found the identical thrill of being the magician and making an image work.
Of the 3 qualities mentioned by my teacher, skill, an capacity to sidestep your natural deficiencies and a adore of the function, the initial two can be increased by diligent study and effort. The only one of them has to be present to begin with is the last 1, a enjoy of the function and a willingness to function until it is ideal. I think men and women who have a true passion for their art can grow in abilities. It could possibly be slow, but it will occur.
The most exquisite portion is that you can consistently be studying. You will in no way know it all, but the learning is precious and the quest for the magic by no means ends.
And there's absolutely nothing much better than becoming the magician.
