Let me start by saying I was not a child that always loved art. I was more of a child that loved to watch TV whenever her parents would let her. Most of the time though my parents, my mother, were signing me up for every first year class imaginable. I went from dance classes [tap, jazz, and ballet] to swimming to piano then t-ball and softball, a Brownie to a Girl Scout and day camps in the summer. It was probably there where I first got my taste of art. Putting my hand in wet clay or paint to create something I'd seen on one of the nature hikes we'd gone on or something that was on display in one of the work rooms. I remember one time having to use a mock skunk's foot to make an imprint in plaster. That to this day is the first piece of art that I can remember creating, a skunk's foot, there's something to tell the art world.
I don't remember if it was a field trip with a camp, with school or maybe an art class my mom had signed me up for, but I can still remember my first time walking in to a museum. It was Wustum Museum, in Racine, that was my first [http://www.ramart.org/rams-wustum-museum]; I remember entering the doors thinking this is probably the most adult thing ever. When I think back I can still see the track lights that lit the glass cases and the wall art perfectly, the clean lines and muted walls. I was just tall enough to be eye level to the bottom of the framed art on the walls. Then, when you turned the corner it was this open space with walls dividing the room into Tetris like shapes but floor to ceiling windows outside of the perimeter. I think I'm remembering that right. There weren't great masterpieces hanging on the walls. It was more American Folk art, a term I clearly did not know back then. You wouldn't see a van Gogh or a Matisse but perhaps the latest work of a local Wisconsin artist; whatever it was back then when something was behind glass or had a spotlight, it was art and it was something not to touch but to look at and remember.
After that first trip I won't lie to you and say, "I was hooked, art had me." Mister Roger's Neighborhood still had me; art wouldn't become such a dominant part of my life until much later. Art projects in school, at friend's houses or at home with my sister were always fun don't get me wrong. My sister and I used to have those Crayola watercolor sets when we were younger. We would paint paper after paper and put on our own art shows in the kitchen to no one, copying the likes of Bob Ross from PBS [http://youtu.be/MghiBW3r65M]. It was probably then when painting first caught my eye and what you could create given the right tools, technique, and [of course] the talent.
I was never a fantastic artist; even as I grew up I never fully got as good as I wished I could have. In my last years of high school I was able to take a multitude of art classes as electives, from sculpture to woodworking, ceramics, drawing, and painting. I loved all of these classes, though woodworking and I didn't get along as well as I would have liked. These classes and the lessons that came with each technique would ultimately become the roots to the passion I hold so dear to me now at the age of twenty-seven.
I'm not sure when I was first introduced to Vincent van Gogh's Starry Night but I know that if I ever had to pinpoint where my love for art started it would be with that piece, it would be with him. Knowing that I would never be the next great artist to shake the world to its knees the next best thing for me was to learn who these artists were. My curiosity to know everything about them from their beginnings to their almost always tragic endings was what I wanted to do with my life. To know what their works meant not only to the artists but to our history and how they lived to create such works that would unknowingly but ultimately inspire the world from then on out. In my senior year of high school art in my life was undeniable.
As I talked to the high school guidance counselor about my future art was what I wanted the most. I graduated from high school and got accepted to the University of Wisconsin – Milwaukee to major in Art History. Six years later, with a slight detour into Social Work, I graduated with a Bachelor's Degree in Art History, a degree that I have not used too much since then.
Enter reality.
To be continued in next post
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