L IS FOR LEARNING

A week ago Saturday, I attended a one-day workshop to learn a technique using pastel crayons. No, not Crayola crayons! Prior to the class, a supply list was sent to me specifying what I would need to bring with me. Having never worked with that medium previously and knowing virtually nothing about it, I was unfamiliar with most of the listed items. I went to an art store and bought what I thought was correct, grateful for the assistance one of the employees gave me. And that was that. I did not bother looking at the supplies once I arrived home. They were kept bagged up and ready to be hauled off to the workshop.

Saturday arrived, and I was dragging big time. Sleep had not been a part of my Friday nite, so I was exhausted even before I arrived at the class. Students had come from all parts of my state to learn this artist's unique technique. I was one of only a handful of people who had no experience whatsoever with pastels. Intimidation entered the picture after discovering that. How in the world could I create something decent among all of these "professionals"?

The first three hours were spent watching the instructor demonstrate the technique. As she drew a very rough, light sketch of a vase of flowers she had on a table next to her, she told all of us to open our pastels and practice the different strokes we might want to use. For those of us new to the medium, she wanted us to get a feel for the crayon and its capabilities. I peeled off the wrapper around my box of pastels, lifted the lid, and I was floored. Why, these were not crayons. These were sticks of colored CHALK! Panicked, I looked around to see if I had purchased the wrong item. It was with much relief that I saw others had the exact same "crayons" as I.

Messy on the fingers playing with these pastels was the first thing I noticed while I scribbled on my sketch pad. The instructor mentioned the dust this medium can create. I, ever the questioning one, asked her how long my fingers would remain a rainbow of colors. Fortunately, it washes off quickly with soap and water, although it can lodge under the fingernails for a day.

After that, we resumed watching her create a positively gorgeous painting. She had focused on only a few of the flowers. I was mesmerized by the technique, as well as her talent. To see it form from the loosest of sketches to the final work was incredible.

With that concluded, we took a one-hour lunch break. When all of us returned, I was eager to begin my picture...whatever it was going to be. The instructor had brought some enlarged photographs of landscapes and flowers that we could use as models, if we chose. Since the supply list had not been specific about what type of pictures to bring, I had to select something from what she had brought with her. I snagged a photo of a sunflower.

And off to work I went. I had a blast. I was a chalky mess. I was unsure of what I was doing. I paid little attention to anything going on around me, because I was determined to focus...for once. Early on, I thought I had entirely messed up the background. No, I was certain I had. I picked with it some more, and I decided it was okay. By the end of the workshop, I was almost done with my painting. That was a shocker. Normally, I am so impossibly slow painting.

I left the class knowing with just a bit more time working on it at home, I would have my sunflower finished. And I did! I was excited.

Sitting back and thinking about the whole experience, it reminds me of how much I love to learn. All different things. I am forever wanting to find out more information about a multitude of subjects. It makes me feel more alive. More a part of the world. From the tiniest trivia information to learning about people and what makes them tick, I am definitely in my element. Always wondering. Always curious.

Some lessons come from books, some from teachers, some from hands-on experiences, and some simply from observations. All of them combine to keep my mind stimulated and my enthusiasm energized. And I love it!

"I am learning all the time. The tombstone will be my diploma." ~Eartha Kitt