A non-artist is born

Yesterday’s post about Orlando the 11-year-old headhunter got me thinking about my attempt at adult art class. Have you ever tried to pick up a hobby only to find you’re really awful at it? Like, you knit a sweater with one too-long arm or build a playhouse that crumbles with the first stiff wind or, I don’t know, try to run a marathon only to give up at mile 8 because the chafing had led to bleeding and was scaring the kids in the crowd?

That was me and art. I took a class with some lovely women taught by a lovely man, and here’s what I produced.

This was my first try. It’s a picture of my friend Jay. I thought it showed some promise. And then…

I tried drawing my brother. Things were quickly going downhill.

My older brother looked like a female mannequin on male hormones.

My sister looked like a bad acid trip.

I don’t even recognize this guy, and he was supposed to be my boyfriend.

And then, the final insult. This was my teacher. I packed away my pencils and started running. I stopped that, too. I need a hobby that won’t offend anyone.


5 Replies to “A non-artist is born”

  1. DAMN! that first picture was awesome and showed so much potential. You must have used everything up on it. The rest don’t even look like the same hand drew them.
    God, that first picture…

  2. Ok, I’m not sure what your family looks like, but that in no way resembles my Schmave!! Good for you for trying. I suck at art, and wouldn’t dream of wasting a teacher’s time.

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