Easel

Yesterday I drew on an easel.
Something I've never done before.

The class was loosely structured.
But not to the point that it was disorganized.
We were instructed to kick off our shoes and throw them on the table, so we could use them as a reference. We chose a portion of the table to sketch.

I remember standing on the cool painted and worn floor under me.
Sketching loosely, not caring what it looked like...but how it felt to me.
For the first time in a long time, I wasn't worrying about using a ruler or being tied down to rules.

As we all set up our easels for viewing each other's work--I glanced around the room.
Everyone's art  had a different style, feel and a voice that spoke to them personally.

Jane went around the room.
Critiquing but uplifting each one of our sketches.

When she approached mine,
I remember looking around the room--realizing that everyone's sketches clearly showed outlines of shoes. They were easily understood.
Looking at mine, it was far from recognizable.
I left the white spaces to speak for themselves.
I left lines out.
I left pieces out.

I remember thinking in the back of my mind that Jane would get after me for the unfinished and abstract feel. Thinking that it was very rough and hard to understand.

When she got to my work though, she said it was interesting.
Not in the way that people say 'interesting', when they don't know what to say though.
She said it was a very unique approach. She liked it.
She didn't ramble on about it and didn't say that I'm the next Van Gogh.
But she liked it. She thought I was unique.

That is why I'm here. To not have limitations to my art. To be who I am. I believe that this is where I am truly supposed to be. To be in a place where I can be who I have been aching to become.