Art, Personal
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In Which I Regale You With My Many Failed Attempts At Artistic Expression.

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Ever since I could remember, the question I get asked most often when people find out my parents are artists is this: “Oh, so you paint, too?” And, while I am flattered that people think that artistic skills are automatically passed on to artists’ offspring, I have had to answer that question with a “no,” for more than two decades. All bias aside, I think my parents are good artists. They know how to render things in amazing detail, and they pick subjects that aren’t cheesy or pseudo-intellectual. They just paint beautiful things, and quite frankly, they do it pretty darn beautifully.

So, I don’t know what possessed me to try my hand at painting. I’m not particularly gifted artistically… I mean, I can put together a decent collage, and I left college with a fine arts degree. But that doesn’t mean that I can paint. I am twenty-one years old (BRB, crying) and I still cannot keep my colors within the lines (BRB, crying some more). Everything I touch—and I’m not even joking—ends up a mess. I can name artists, and come up with okay layouts and ideas, but when it comes to painting and drawing and crap like that, I’m not very good.

I’m not fishing here, okay. So, shush.

Anyway, because I am sometimes ambitious, I took a square, 3-foot canvas last Sunday and attempted what is ridiculously impossible for me. As if that weren’t silly enough, I picked a subject matter with a face (thankfully, they are asleep, so I don’t have to deal with making the eyes look not-dead) and also, spots. Kill. Me. Now.

I’m going to post some photos, and periodically, progress updates. Because I’ve learned that announcing stuff online makes it harder for someone (i.e. me) to back out of stuff.

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Grid of death. I had to draw the darn deer using a grid.
And then I had to erase the grid because it would show through the paint.
Curses!

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Eraser nub. My hands still hurt.
(I had to use three different ones.
Who knew pencil marks were so stubborn?)

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Eraser dust.

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My dad and his paintings. I am angry at him because they are pretty.

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Me! Just because I’m going to get rid of my hair tomorrow.
This is here for, you know, posterity. Or whatever.

Anyway, I’ve since erased the damn grid, colored the background with the base (grey), and colored the deer with the base (yellow oxide). I’m not posting any photos of it yet, because it, quite literally, looks like a piece of turd in front of grey space.

Wish me luck and such! I am so going to need it. I foresee lots of angry Tweets and tears in the near future.

“I AM NOT A QUITTER.” — Carina Santos, 2010.