My Childhood Art Camp Story (& Worries About 'Natural Talent')
I remember going to an art camp when I was ten years old.
Art and creativity have been my biggest passions for as long as I can remember, so getting to spend three days doing creative activities and learning new art techniques sounded like heaven to me. My best friend was coming too and we’d been excited for months.
I thought it was going to be like summer camp in The Babysitter’s Club.
But do you know there’s only one thing I can remember specifically about that camp? Ok two things. One was how my best friend wore her hair in a plait to go to sleep (I thought that must be so uncomfortable) and the other was how I felt after we did a drawing exercise.
I felt completely awful.
We had to draw something outside and I chose what I now know was lomandra grass with long strappy leaves going everywhere. I couldn’t focus on an individual leaf and make it look like what I saw in front of me no matter how much I tried with my graphite pencil.
The more I drew, the more upset I became.
No teacher was around to offer any tips. We were left to our own devices, and to make it even worse, my best friend’s drawing not only looked like a shrub (which was more than what I could say for my efforts), it looked like an amazing shrub. So detailed. So in proportion. So perfect.
“She’s so patient,” I thought, “Not like me. I can’t draw. I’m not patient enough.”
I hated the rest of the camp and couldn’t wait to get home.
Do you think I spent much time drawing after that? No. Not really. I remember sketching a few trees and swans when I lived on a boat and we were motoring up the Derwent River to Hobart, but aside from that, I don’t remember drawing anything more than smiley faces, flowers and balloons until I went to art school.
Then, in my first life drawing class, those same feelings of inadequacy and shame came flooding back.
All the students around me could seemingly draw the man standing naked in front of us, but the voice in my head was screaming “I don’t know how to draw. Someone get me out of here!!!!!!!!!” It was terrifying.
I was fairly religious at the time, so having a naked man standing in front of me was pretty confronting too.
Do you know what I did?
I didn’t run out of the room (no matter how much I wanted to avoid being ‘found out’).
I didn’t burst into tears (which was a step forward from the art camp experience).
I brought myself into the present moment by listening to my teacher’s voice, feeling the sensations in my body and running my hand over the smoothness of the paper on the easel board in front of me.
I picked up my brown Conte pastel, continued to listen to my teacher’s voice, put my attention on the page and focused on the curve of the man’s shoulder. And I began. Our teacher gave us two minutes, then five, then ten, then twenty minutes to draw him in different poses.
I drew one line, and then I looked at where the next line intersected that first line on his body. I added an arm, his neck and his mane of hair.
I kept going. And when the time was up, I did another quick sketch.
With these warm-ups and the imposed time shortage, it was easier to spring into action and not second guess myself. Since it was just a warm-up, it was easier to feel permission for it not to look finished and perfect.
With each sketch, I loosened up. My gestures became freer. And I began to see what I was looking at with more confidence. I began to see with a different way of seeing.
And by the end of the session, I had a pile of sketches that completely surprised me.
I could draw.
Not perfectly. Not with everything in the exact proportion. But I could draw. With expressiveness, movement and life.
I was simultaneously relieved and astonished.
Creativity is a funny thing.
It can come with just as much baggage and stories we tell ourselves as things like relationships and money. “I’m never going to find the right man.” “I’m simply no good with money.” “I can’t draw.”
They’re all false beliefs we carry around, and, left unexamined, can very much impact our quality of life and self-perception.
If you have a deep desire to paint, play with colour, write, or use your camera to explore your world, these blocks can be very detrimental. They can sabotage your satisfaction.
Bringing a little presence, learning from someone who takes the time to guide you, questioning your false beliefs and exploring new territory in your mindsets makes space for more joy, expansiveness and, yes, creativity.
Life is there to be lived. Not always edited.
Expressed. Not jaded.
Explored. Not stifled.
You have a wellspring of creativity inside you. I know it. I’ve seen it shift again and again for people who believe they can’t paint. Can’t draw. Don’t have an artistic bone in their body.
They can. They do.
You’re an important part of my life. Thank you for being here.
I’d really love to hear from you.
What would you love to be able to create? Experience? Express? What tips have you discovered about learning a new skill? Please share it in the comments below.
Have a beautiful day and be gentle with yourself. See how you might be able to play a little bit more today. You may surprise yourself with what you can create!
With my warmest wishes,
Nicola xx
PS. If you’d love to spend 5 days nurturing your creativity in a safe, encouraging and supportive environment, you are warmly invited join me and a group of fellow Creative Hearts for The Art of Creative Living Retreat in 2020. Places are limited and the early-bird offer ends in just a couple of weeks, so be sure to secure your place. Find all the details, including the schedule and prices here.