Where Did You Begin?

I have a little challenge for you. Just for the fun of it, tell me — in a single sentence — how you began your pursuit of art. Maybe art has always been part of your life; maybe your interest was sparked by childhood experiences. Or, perhaps, like me, you chose to learn art later in life.

For whatever it’s worth, here is my single sentence:

“I bought a complete set of Prismacolor Premier pencils to use in a coloring book but then felt I had to justify owning them by learning to draw.”

For me, color always played a part in art. While I wasn’t “an artist”, I did dabble around with a few art-related interests, such as fashion design. I did design most of my own clothes, learned to sew, and enjoyed choosing colors and fabrics. I also studied interior design, and for a time I was a successful decorator doing interiors of “show homes” or “model homes” for a construction company.

Yet in so many ways, my lack of drawing skills always loomed over me, holding me back from ever really going after my dreams. So many times I wanted to share ideas or visions but didn’t have the ability to successfully “translate” them from my head to paper.

In school, I both loved and dreaded “art class”. I loved simply being around “art” — all the colors, all the paints and pencils and all the possibilities — but again, I could never take what I saw in my head and put it onto paper.

As an adult, I remember visiting “Keith Coldsnow’s” art supply store in Westport, a trendy area in Kansas City. For artists around KC, this was the place to go for all things art. Keith Coldsnow had earlier managed the bookstore for the Kansas City Art Institute, and in 1942 he and a friend opened the Westport store to expand on services to students and artists. He is now deceased, the store continued operating under different ownership for a while, but has now sadly closed both the Westport location and a second store.

Oh, but what a thrilling experience it was. I was running errands with a friend who was, indeed, a very talented artist. We stopped in at Coldsnow’s and I stood there transfixed by all the colors around me. Who knew you could buy so many many pencils and paints in so many colors? It was quite an eye-opening experience. I remember wishing that I could “belong” in a place like Coldsnow’s, wondering what it would be like to come into the place knowing what I wanted or needed, and being accepted as “an artist” who knew how to use all those gorgeous art supplies.

It was very much the same feeling I had when I first received that set of Prismacolor Premier colored pencils. I opened the box, saw the gorgeous colors — oh, my goodness! And that same wishful thinking took over. I wish I really deserved these pencils. But I don’t. These are artist-quality pencils, and I’m not an artist. I have no right to own these.

That’s when I uttered those fateful words: “I guess I have to learn to draw.”

Things have changed a lot since then. Whereas I once felt awkward and out-of-place while visiting art stores, I’m now greeted by friendly clerks with “Oh, here’s the artist!” They’ve seen my work, they’ve admired my paintings, they’ve accepted me.

Where I once never dreamed of ever showing my work in a gallery or exhibition, I’ve now got a collection of ribbons from art shows across the Kansas City area, and my landscape oils were featured in a gallery in St. Joseph, Missouri — a bit north of the area.

The most surprising thing, I think, is that all those years ago, I had such a limited idea of what “being an artist” was all about. For me, it was simply this: If you could draw, you were an artist. What I discovered, though, was that “being an artist” involved so much more, that it wasn’t just about “learning to draw”. In fact, that was only a starting point, a sort of “artistic portal” which opened up an entire new world.

Everything changed when I truly became “an artist”. I began to see the world with new eyes. I met new people, went to new places, took part in art clubs and exhibitions, and gained a reputation as a local artist. Me? Really? Yeah, that happened.

I guess I’ve shared more than “a single sentence” about my journey in the art world, and it’s been fun to get lost in all the memories all over again.

It’s often said that every picture tells a story, and in a similar way, we can say that every artist has his or her own story to tell. This is my story, and I’d love to hear yours!