If you remember from last week I told you how we all survived, myself as well as my students, the first painting class that I'd taught in almost 10 years. The second session proved to be a little less dramatic as we didn't have anyone busting in towards the end of class stating they wanted to be a nude model. I was psyched that my four students arrived eager to begin their projects once again. One student showed me her photo of a painting she did years ago that also won a blue ribbon at a local summer fair. I must admit, it was a beautiful painting, regardless of how long ago it was created. Afterwards, I began wondering to myself, why did she call me originally to teach her to paint? Was I missing something here?
My ego started punching me in the back of my mind - this is the place where I usually start second guessing myself. For a moment, I felt awkward after talking with her. My ego was jabbing me with thoughts like, "Yeah; why are you here teaching her about painting? She's won a 1st place blue ribbon. What can you offer her?" After I told my ego to shut its mouth, I now had the mindset that I had something to prove - I am a good artist and I am good enough! Which is just what my ego wanted...
After all my students sat at their places, I gave them instructions to start at the top of their canvas and work from light to darker colors. Then I told them to do any shadows last. Remember my newbie from last week named Mary Lou? She was having a slightly harder time at the color grading than the others, so I helped her a little more than the others. That was ego problem #1; the infamous "you can't do this without me and you need my help".
Next came an artist / instructor cardinal sin. She got frustrated, sighed, and stopped painting for a moment. That opened the door to ego problem #2; "Let me help you." At that moment I took the paint brush out of her hand and painted on her canvas. This is one thing I promised myself many years ago to never EVER to do to a student and here I was being Miss Control Freak Extraordinaire! It was if I stood out of my body and watched myself do this; similar to a premonition and I was just going through the motions to fulfill it. I finally mentally asked myself, "What the hell are you doing?"
I quickly handed back the brush to my student, and told her to paint the apple red as best she could and walked around the room to the other students. There was ego problem #3; the tried and true "When all else fails, tell someone to do something and walk away." I returned to my struggling newbie about 5 minutes later. She informed me that the apple in her painting didn't look like an apple at all. I suggested that she set it aside and let the oil paint dry for a while. I asked her if she wanted to work on her Easter egg tree and she happily agreed and seemed visibly relieved.
At that point, I took a breather myself and gave all my students ample breathing room. From a distance, I could see that my newbie was indeed following the directions I gave her of doing the sky first, then adding the trees and foliage to the background, and finally painted in colored Easter eggs. By that point, she was visibly more happy... way more happy.
This was a valuable lesson for me, even if it was a refresher. I have to let my students make mistakes. It's how they're going to learn. For example, another student who used to be a watercolor painter, had accidentally poured some thinner into a plastic palette and mixed white acrylic paint in it and now had a horrid blue-grey clumpy sky. In this case, I couldn't stop the mess from happening and it couldn't be fixed. Ironically, she was pleased with her results. From my perspective, I was ready to try and "fix it". From her perspective, however, it was all good. Since it's her painting, it's her perspective that matters.
The third class is tomorrow. I should have the kinks worked out in regards to my class. No unnecessary drama, leave my ego at the door, and let my students be students. Oh, and finally - have fun! Of course, if everything goes to hell in a hand basket, I can always click my heels three times and make each painting perfect... or possibly go back home to my studio... or something like that.
Until next week,
Jill
No comments:
Post a Comment