Tuesday, 8 February 2011
I have never been any good at drawing. In fact I have a real complex about it and if I am asked to draw anything at all I get into a 'state' and refuse. It has always been like this even in my days at school; in fact I do remember being ridiculed in art classes for my bad drawing so perhaps this is at the root of it all.
But I know there is another reason and it is not altogether unrelated to my post of yesterday, when I talked of slowing down my reading to one chapter a day. I do not have a lot of patience and I tend to want things finished yesterday, which means that I rarely look carefully. I have what my first husband used to call a 'butterfly mind' in that I am interested in everything but my mind tends to dart from one thing to another. If you relate this to drawing, which an artist once told me is ninety-eight percent looking and two percent putting pencil to paper, you can see why I am bad at it.
Today a petal fell off one of my cyclamen plants and as it lay on the window sill I saw just how beautiful the individual petal was - how it was an integral part of the whole plant and yet a thing of beauty in its own right. So I looked at a single petal on another cyclamen plant and then at a snowdrop, looking into the bowl where there is as much green as there is white.
Sadly I think it is a bit late to try and acquire this skill but at least I can appreciate what I have been missing.