The subject was autumn trees near a lake. The key was to bring oil on oil into a growing and developing landscape of sky, water, background trees, then foreground trees, then land and pathway and final beautifully appointed trees colored with the hues of fall.
My sky was okay, clouds were a bit suspect but I learned to blend and that was fun. I forgot to save room for my sunlit water way, but learned how to rectify that. And then.................it was time for the background trees. People around the room were dotting and tapping and blending and small islands of forests were rising up to fill the horizon with a breathless landscape. My own canvass showed lumpy, bumpy and dark unrecognizable space between the "trees" and the water. When I tried to draw a shore line it looked a bit like a heart monitor readout. The large forested area to the left looked a bit like a green blob sinking ever so slightly in algae infested water.
By break time, I was frustrated and ready to call it a day. I refused to draw branches in my forested area, I was so "done". All I needed was to see people leave for break so I could gather my coat and scarf and head out the door. I was having an internal tantrum and it was time to leave. I told the woman sitting next to me that my painting had reached a critical point where it couldn't be fixed and I was going to call it a day. She heard the little tears in my throat. When I said it was time for me to leave, she said something about "mature way of dealing" that stopped me cold. I opened to her suggestions and fixed the algae colored water, as well as getting the horizon a little more recognizable through more blending. The teacher came over and helped me line the shoreline for depth. Then my painting partner and I took a walk, talked about other things, and I found my center once again.
Isn't it interesting that no matter how old a person gets, there are still reactions based on old scripts from years ago? I realized that I was accessing that little girl who was afraid not to do things right, that felt her worth was in achieving at the first try. I thought about how often I have left a class when learning a new craft seems too hard or when I'm afraid I'm not good enough. And there I am, a little girl who takes the "bratty" road to get out of the anticipated humiliation.
Today I bless the woman who not only helped me find ways to correct my errors, but called me our on my immature response to the problem. I bless the fact that she walked with me and honored me, and allowed me to reach out for help. I bless the fact that rather than avoid humiliation, I was able to practice humility. Unlike that poor child within who still tries to overachieve, I can now choose to say "I'm enough".
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