When I was a kid

When I was growing up and making those first, essential forays into art, the reactions of teachers and peers was, to say the least, a mixed bag.

I still have a memory of being in kindergarten and having a painting session. I hadn't yet learned the art of controlling my brush or how to prevent runs and drips yet, so my 'forest with a rainbow' painting had some runny bits. I liked it, though. to me, it looked like the rainbow was 'raining colors' from itself.

(Note to self: Do a version of this painting as an adult, just for fun)

My teacher didn't see it that way, however. She called the class's attention to it. My little five-year old artist self thought 'Ooh, she liked it so much, she's showing everyone!' Unfortunately, that was not the case. 'Look at how the colors all run down Sheila's painting,' she said. Her voice alone shamed me, and then came her next words: "That doesn't look very nice, now does it, class?"

"No," my classmates chorused obediently. I wanted to hide in the supply cart. I settled for bursting into tears, as I often did in those days (Melanie Martinez might have written 'Crybaby' just for me and me alone) and I got a lecture about how 'only babies cry' and "You're a big girl now' and finally 'If you don't stop crying, I'm going to paddle you." (Counterproductive, much?) eventually, I just stifled it, like I always did, because feelings in a little girl other than happiness and agreeableness are baaaaaaad, and only bad, disagreeable children ever have any other feelings. My mother was already all but beating that into my head already.

When I'd hit the 4th grade, though, my teacher saw something different. She encouraged my talent and my art, and for a little, I flourished. I saw the potential in myself. Between 4th and 7th grade, I drew constantly, painted, did everything I could that wasn't deemed 'too messy' or 'too expensive' by my parents, especially my mother. 

In the 4th grade, we did collages, and I did mine with frabric on paper of a jungle scene, complete with monkeys, a lion (I know, they don't live in the jungle, really), trees, a leopard, and an elephant. I didn't think it was all that wonderful. My teacher loved it, and encouraged me to enter it in the school art competition.

It came in third!

My parents were proud of me, but didn't want to expend money or effort into getting me the supplies I needed to continue at home (see 'messy' and 'expensive' above) This is where I gradually began to realize that my desires, my goals, my dreams were opnly doable if it didn't inconvenience my family in some way.

In seventh grade, I discovered two wonderful things that I still enjoy to this day: Star Wars and KISS. For the next two years, I focused almost all of my artistic efforts into drawing things related to both, much to the chagrin of my art teachers and the derisive amusement of my fellow students. I was that weird girl who was into weird stuff, something which I embrace now, but at an age where fitting in is seen as something more vital to life than, say, oxygen, I was miserably unhappy. (Things didn't much improve when I moved on from KISS after discovering Devo in 1978, but that's another story!).

I want to say that I became an amazing artist doing incredible work to this day, but it was not to be. I was already deeply wounded inside. I had little to no self esteem. The constant ragging from my peers and my parents lack of support and encouragement in any aspect of my life along with my mother's continued verbal and emotional abuse had ground me under life's heel too long.

Throughout the rest of high school, I never took another art course. I told everything I've written here to my mentor (an amazing artist in his own right) and he was angry and heartbroken for me. He grew up in a family that was the polar opposite of mine, and they encouraged and nurterd talent and creativity, wherever it might lie.

It's taken me until 2015 to even begin to think I could pick up where I left off, and the struggle is real, let me tell you. But I am not going to give up on myself or my art again.

It might just take a little while, is all.