Week 4: The Artist’s Date
This week’s outing ended up being a combination of the end of chapter one’s exercises. The assignment is to write down 5 imaginary professions to try out and then to pick one. So, the first time that I did this exercise, I picked being a florist. The second time a garbage man/person. This time I went with “pretending” to be an artist.
I honestly wasn’t sure what it is exactly professional artists do, so I decided to go to the place where I have seen their fruits (a local art gallery that I had only glanced by at). I imagined that if I was an artist, I would want to have a card with me and introduce myself to the host/hostess. As I entered the building that was set up more like a mini mall, I was disappointed that the gallery was closed (after all it was Monday). I peeked in the windows of the gallery and its neighboring floral shop, but was saved that many paintings were displayed throughout the middle of the little building’s walls. I took my time studying the technique and styles of the different artists.
It wasn’t until I got to the back of the hallway that I found an artist whose technique and colors caught my attention. Two of her pieces were just about life size and told stories. One painting had many different stories of hope. I think that they were articles of different people that made up the bigger picture. The other was the story of her journey that highlighted all of the people who had made an impact on her life. I imagined this the healing properties of this work–almost like a journaling exercise. This seems like a concept of art that I already enjoy.
Next, I wanted to drop by and pick something special out for my artist. I dropped into one of my favorite discount stores and soon found charming aprons in the kitchen accessories. None of them were quite right, but I thought that a smock is definitely something that a “real” artist would need. All along, I was feeling a little silly because I realized that I still haven’t taken ownership of the title of artist. It sometimes seems like it is a title that someone else must bestow upon you. For now, I feel completely comfortable calling myself a creative.
Elida Field Bio/webpage
Art on the Boulevard Facebook page