Room 211 (Day 15)

Hate to be a negative Nancy here but of all the classes I've taken at Harding I can honestly say painting is my least favorite. It takes so much time to paint and it never looks as good as I would like. The brush smears the paint in all different directions and you can never achieve a thin line. Blending is a pain because the colors streak unless you use just the right pressure. Waiting for things to dry takes literally days. Then on top of that it's still lives and realism. There isn't any emotion in the strokes, no spice. But I loathe going into that room the most because I always think too much. Over-think actually, like overanalyze my entire life and spin myself into a downward spiral. Painting isn't good for my psyche. That seems really weird since most people use art as a way to calm themselves, but for someone who spends their life creating, it actually can have negative effects. I'm one of those. When I do any kind of art (other than design) I only use the left side of my brain. Well, since I'm a creative, the left side is lonely and creates this wild world. Don't ask me why it's negative, it just is. I don't find enjoyment from sitting in a place for too long and looking at the same objects. Maybe that's why, I really don't know. But for whatever reason painting brings out the worst in me.


Well, God has surprised me. The first painting we ever did took quite a bit of time outside of class. I worked and worked and worked and it still wasn't what I wanted. But this time, I only painted for three hours outside the allotted class time. I think God realizes how much I dislike the class and how much I think while I'm in there. I would just throw something on the canvas and it would look right. I'm talking about things that were the hardest for me on the last painting. I don't feel like after one painting I really can say I've become a master at knowing how to use the medium. I know it's from God. And every time I fear it taking forever, and every time it doesn't. Now are my paintings gallery material? No. Do I care for them to ever be? No. I know I was not made to be a painter. I was made to be a designer. This class is only to graduate and I believe God understands that also. Some people might be reading this and thinking "this girl is crazy." Honestly, putting this in writing is making me feel crazy, but I know that with the skills I have there is no way I could complete this in the time I did. God had to of given me help. He had to of known how much I dreaded going into that room. He knew how much it played with my emotions and I think He protected me from damaging myself too much. He's great :)