My Artists' Journey - Part 2 (Self-Exploration)

It would take 5 more years until I decided within my own heart to try to “be an artist.” Lots of experimentation along the way and trying to make it in the “real world.”

Something “clicked” my senior year in my college art program after my France Abroad (see “Part 1”). However, even though I had an entire spring semester to “explore” my new painting style, I got very, very frustrated. Because, even though my professor recognized something in me to keep going in that direction, he could not take me there. He could only point the way. So I spend those final months asking myself what the heck did I do to get my church painting & how do I do that again?

We all then started life after college graduation. I married (too young in our opinion) my high-school sweetheart and we moved to downtown Chicago to “start our life together.” It was tough. I found a job at a then-start-up commercial real estate firm who needed a graphic designer to put together their building flyers. My new bosses were hard-core born & raised Jewish New York City entrepreneurs that set off to conquer the real estate market in the “backwaters” of “puny” Chicago. Those 3 years were life transforming for me, & under their co-Founder, Jeff as my mentor, I learned a LOT about helping him start the Marketing department & business, as the firm rapidly grew from 3 brokers to over 20 when I left. It was such a cool experience.

But, I was creative and a dreamer. I wanted to travel, see the world and figure out my life on the fly. I married someone very opposite of me and even though we both thought we knew each other since we grew up together, very soon it was VERY evident that once we started making hard life decisions, we were VERY, VERY different. Looking back, we both never got some time spent by ourselves to figure out who we wanted to be.

I got pretty depressed. I felt this huge “drive” within me to “do something creative” but I didn’t know what. For so many years, I just felt I had a big question mark about it. I still at this time, felt very insecure about becoming a “real artist.” So I did everything I could think of to foster my dreaming around my strict 9-5 job.

I thought maybe I’d go back to school to be an Art Historian, but I needed to be fluent in at least 1 European language, preferably 2. I also needed lots of credits/portfolio showcasing my research papers (which I had none). I looked into MA in Graphic Design but since I was a minor in college, I did not have enough credits to get into a MA program without showing I finished other foundational coursework. At that point, web design and Flash was all the rage and I am not a software programmer so it was pretty intimidating & there was not a whole lot of space for creative folks like me to fit into such a technical world. There was quite a split still, either print-focused or web-focused. I looked into being an Art Teacher but again, needed Education background to fulfill that role.

But all these weren’t enough and I truly felt I was missing out on the opportunity that I needed to take before I had kids. I instinctively knew that once we wanted a family, I would be the type of mother that would be 100% devoted to that role, and if I did anything “selfish” for myself, I would need to do it BEFORE kids.

But we were living in downtown Chicago barely scraping by, the prospect of going into debt to pursue . . . something graduate school related was overwhelming. I certainly explored creative outlets ass much as I could since we had a tiny apartment, I could sketch and draw. I finally took an oil painting class which I loved but couldn’t really paint large paintings only tiny ones back at home.

I literally felt like a tiger in a cage. My soul was slowly dying and I didn’t know what to do.

I look back on those years - now over 17 years ago, and definitely feel for myself. I was in the “Wilderness,” feeling very alone and isolated. The city atmosphere was grating on me and my husband and I both hated the cold. It was exiting to live there without a car, taking transportation into downtown to work on the brown El line back to Armitage ini Lincoln Park but it was VERY routine. My personality prefers spontaneity (not too much but a little!) or flexibility, to keep my dreams alive, to keep a spark of life. As I look back I felt like I was barely hanging on. Even though I loved my husband very much, I expected him to support me no matter what, and to appreciate me for everything he was not. A Dreamer married to a Realist is not all that fun LOL.

I did a LOT of soul searching.

In the end, my soul heard me and gave me a way forward . . . .

My Artists' Journey - Part 1 ("The Painting that changed my life")

As I sat on my bed in my hotel room in Southern France in 2002, I knew that something had changed but couldn’t put my finger on it. I was mad! Frustrated that I couldn’t figure this out. You would think I would be in heaven–on my 2nd college abroad, in France for 8 weeks, and all we had to do was draw or paint all day while we traveled visiting villages, chateaus, and cities.

Why the heck was I SO ANGRY? I remember vividly I was staring at my tiny blank, white watercolor piece of paper, feeling my anger build up inside me. It was like when you’re a little kid and the teacher (or maybe your best friend) is telling you, “You have to be IN the lines Katy! IN the lines!” and I didn’t want to be in the lines, in face I intuitively knew that I SHOULDN’T be in the lines. It kind of felt like that!

I had taken art classes since I was 11. I had first looked upon one of my friend’s portrait of a woman he had created himself, and copied out of a photograph of a recent National Geographic magazine. It was just a girl and it was just a portrait done in pencil. But it was gorgeous - lifelike and perfect graphite rendering. I was absolutely captivated! How the heck did he do that? It looks so perfect! So real! Could I do that?

Taking art classes that young was definitely beneficial. I learned very early ob that YES, anyone could be taught how to draw like that. It was a skill to learn, practice and improve upon. It was clear that the traditional method of how to draw portraits or sketch landscapes was how to “see” the world like an artist: how to read light/shadow, how to abstract shape, how to learn the “little tricks” that optically capture something and then know that the eye will put it together (such as using one simple line curved in the right way “popped out” an eyelid, or created the pupil and thus suggested the twinkle in that eye). It was really fun. And it gave me a lot of encouragement that I could draw like that too.

Chartres Cathedral, Watercolor, 48x36 - painted from a graphite rendering by myself
Kathryn Neale Studio © 2003. All Rights Reserved.

And I drew and drew and copied and copied from photographs, magazines, calendar images, advertisements, etc. Some of them weren’t exact - cause again I would get impatient with my details. But I tried. And I loved it.

And I went all the way through my High School years never once thinking I’m an artist. I even decided to do the art program in my Liberal Arts college and wanted to do graphic design to be “practical.” But I still didn’t see myself as “an artist”, as a creator, as a designer, or whatever. I was interested in the subject matter but not very talented (100% believed it). Everyone else was way better than me. ESP one of my good friends who had always grown up doing what normal artists did - lounging around the school lobby sketching his peers from life, going out into nature and rendering a perfect rabbit or deer. He was (and still is) an AMAZING real life artist. His paintings, sketches, renderings, you name it are incredible and lifelike. In fact he has been paid to sketch scientific illustrations for the Smithsonian - the kind that have to be so exact, down to the millemeter of particular species of animals or birds, it’s impressive.

But he was an artist. That’s the way artists should be.

But that was not me in any way. I soon got very bored. And just kind of floated through college with not a lot of purpose, feeling instinctively that I was drawn to art but never gave myself permission, and didn’t know what to do. We had an eccentric professor who had been taught a specific watercolor technique from California/1950’s that taught all the advanced drawing/painting classes. I later learned this but at the time didn’t think too much about it. We were taught very specific techniques from him, as well as the tradition of plein air painting.

It was not until the France abroad my senior year in the fall that I finally got it —I don’t like plein air painting!! LOL! (But now I realize that’s where I get a lot of my “watercolor” influence now).

As I look back I realized I was frustrated and very bored with my college art classes. I didn’t know it at the time of course, but the lack of practical guidance and individual encouragement to find one’s own “personal style” was completely void. You either learned how to paint like this professor or you got B’s. Well I got B’s. So I thought I was no good and therefore didn’t understand it because I felt like I was painting like I was “supposed to” but there was nothing I could understand or hold onto concept-wise. I never did know what I was doing or what I was supposed to do. It was uber frustrating!

On the France abroad fall of my senior year, we would visit towns in the south along our route and by the time we got to the Dordogne area, I was so angry at my professor because it was just a freakin guessing game. He would come over to each of us and talk about things but it was abstract to me or way too specific. For some reason I wasn’t getting it and still after 4 years I didn’t have a clue what he wanted from me.

I was so upset I just picked up my stuff and headed back to my hotel room (which earned me a BIG FROWN from him). In the peace and quiet, I popped in a CD I had made of Mozart (yes no apple devices yet - this was well over a [two] decades ago!).

Honfleur Chapel, Watercolor, 8x10 - Kathryn Neale Studio © 2002. All Rights Reserved.

And an amazing thing happened. I completely let go. I created a painting that was a conversation in my head with the professor. I did everything that he “didn’t want me to do” and when asked “why?,” I responded “I DON’T CARE!!”. The result was something I had NEVER produced before. And I had no idea what to make of it. It was a church, a church from memory (even though I have a terrible memory) but it was . . . abstract to me. And completely foreign.

After I made it, I stared and stared. I felt incrementally that I had made something different that this was a “turning point” but still couldn’t decide what to make of it. There was this . . . . SHIFT. I certainly felt good, felt relieved and felt like this was mine. I didn’t feel that I liked it necessarily but it was still like “did I just do that?”

Every night we would all gather together for a “show and tell.” I had labored back and forth whether to bring it down and finally I thought “F-it! who cares! that’s what I did today so everyone can just be mortified. I put it down with all the other beautiful creations. And held my breath. I watched as one by one my art colleagues and friends passed it by. They would nod and smile and point at other friend’s work and say “nice job!” or “I love that!” “wow!” but not one word about my little painting. Not one word. They didn’t know what to make of it.

And then out of no where, a voice beside my ear whispered, “Katy, did you make that?” I spun around face to face with none other then my . . . professor!! I gulped. “YES.” There was this a long, pregnant pause . . . . . . and then he whispered, “well I would like to see MORE of that!”

WHAT?!?! What? I don’t think I heard you? MORE OF THAT?! More of WHAT? I was stunned.

That was it! That was all my church painting got in a response. And I was completely bewildered. I was 100% positive I would get reprimanded and or worse, just ignored. But I got a response! And not just any response but a whole-hearted positive encouragement!

**********************************************************************************************************************************

Well I can’t tell you the ending to this story because there was no such thing until years later when I finally concluded I had to make art (even though I still wasn’t “an artist). I wish I could say that I went on to create all these paintings and came out of college bursting with energy and confidence because I was a painter!!! an artist! But that’s not how life is. This painting was subtle, so subtle I barely missed it. But it lingered there, waiting for me to acknowledge it.

Japanese Bagoda, Watercolor, 48x36 - Kathryn Neale Studio © 2003. All Rights Reserved.

Jazz Ensemble from New Orleans, Watercolor, 48x36
Kathryn Neale Studio © 2003. All Rights Reserved.

I spent the rest of the abroad not knowing what the hell I was doing still, totally in a muffle because to be honest, I had no clue how I made that thing! You think that’s stupid to say but I had spent all of my young adult life thinking there was only one way to be an artist (sound familiar?) To suddenly turn that around took a great deal of self-confidence and time.

At the end of the semester my professor pulled me aside and asked why he hadn’t seen anymore work like the church I had made? I told him honestly I didn’t know what I was doing and didn’t know if I could recreate that.

Thankfully the next spring semester was a senior project where we could work on art that we wanted to do. That was the semester where I really experimented with my new style. And guess what? I LOVED IT! LOVED IT LOVED IT!

Stonehenge Series, Pastel, 48x36
Kathryn Neale Studio © 2003. All Rights Reserved.

I remember clearly one incident with my good friend (you remember the guy I grew up with in High School that made all those awesome “real-life” scientific drawings?”). My professor came over to his work that day that was very detailed, perfectly drawn with the animals, perspective, beautiful layering of paint, etc. and they discussed very specifically that the palm tree leaves in front needed to “go back further in space.” They were too forward, and need to recede. very specific and very exact.

Then professor came over to me and stood there for a couple seconds, and finally just said “that dark blob there? Looks good! But this area - needs something . . . . a bit more . . . . ” I beamed. Yes! We were FINALLY speaking the same language! Wow!

Stonehenge, Oil on canvas, 8x10
Kathryn Neale Studio © 2005. All Rights Reserved.

My friend immediately sauntered over to what I was working on and just shook his head, “Courageous Kate . . . you have a lot more courage then I do!” hah! I just laughed feeling suddenly very free. No matter how hard he tried, I believed he couldn’t paint like me - I had found some magical recipe only for me!

I found out later from my professor after that semester and it school was over, he confided in me that he actually wanted to create more abstract work like mine (like mine?!?! what the heck?) He said that all of his life he thought “true art” was what he was taught from his master teachers. And he loved it. But later in life he realized he got so bored with it all and never really “got” the abstraction movement that paralleled his life but late in life realized that was the real challenge. And he felt he couldn’t cross that bridge. It was actually too foreign, too scary? I was shocked. He seemed, regretful and almost sad. He congratulated me for doing it and said to keep going.

I look back at this whole experience clearly grateful for it. It was not earth-shattering by any means. And I realize too that with all my frustrations with my professor, at least he recognized something unique in me. Even if he himself didn’t know how to keep bringing it out of me then. He still recognized it and encouraged me to explore that way of painting. That I will never forget.

I give this professor FULL CREDIT and am grateful to him every single day I get into the studio. He taught me the watercolor aesthetic & encouraged me in that moment when I needed it most. It was my own journey, it took quite a while, but this truly was a turning point. I went on to create many more types of paintings in this “new style” - even a set of pastels based on Stonehenge photos I took while I visited the real circle. This series just poured out of me. It was easy, new and I couldn’t get enough of it. Over the years I experimented in oil too - eventually quitting my corporate job to pursue a Masters in the middle of cornfields 4 years later.

to be continued . . . .

_______________________

I originally posted this back in 2015. And this experience below was from 13 years before the post. As I read through it now, I’m over 40 years old, with a much deeper appreciation of my experience with more perspective. I wish I could sit here in stillness, frozen in this moment and go back to these days of constant self-exploration, questioning, journaling and painting. Guess that comes with the “wisdom” of age, by the time we can again spend full days contemplating our creative process, hopefully we can still physically lift a paintbrush! But even now, if I get 30 minutes of precious painting time, it’s a gift. But any extra time like sitting to finish this post, I have to force myself to reflect because all I want to do is take the time to paint.

I look back and am so jealous of my young self - so much TIME to spend on working on this. Today, TIME is barreling past like 130 mph train with no stops and very few “slow” times. I wish I could spend each and everyday in my studio, pushing myself, challenging myself and growing creatively. I know it will always be there for me. I will never question that moment again and now on a mission to help others discover their own inner-artist capabilities.

Creativity is everywhere. Process is everywhere. There never is a destination. Like my professor from years ago, we all have our own fears and insecurities no matter what age. The “wisdom” comes in taking a few moments here and there to practice one’s own creativity. It’s never too late. I now disagree with my old professor, no matter what age you are, you can overcome fear and insecurity and try something new, trust in yourself and be playful, in the moment and free! :D For we all are reflections of the One True Creator - it’s inevitable! All we have to do is believe and try!

Stonehenge, Watercolor, 48x36, Kathryn Neale Studio © 2003. All Rights Reserved.

Trip Down Memory Lane

Stumbled on my old art journals tonight–especially the big one that took me all the way through my MFA program.

It’s interesting. I’m still processing, not sure how I feel when I look through these pages. Endless scribbles, notes, half-written journal entires, notes from critiques, names of artists & movements, and lists and lists of fragmented ideas. It’s impressive! So many ideas!

I’m just now (as I approach my 38th trip around the sun) truly delving into one of my greatest strengths from that Briggs-Myers personality test, trying to understand it better and see it for what is really is: a strength. It is called “IDEATION.”

Ideation is defined in this context by people who are “fascinated by ideas.” Folks who are able to “find connections between seemingly disparate phenomena,” and “relish free-thinking experiences such as brainstorming and discussion groups.”

I’ve always vaguely been aware that for some reason I love to sit down with a good friend and chat for hours on . . . well. . . anything and everything. And when a particular conversation is enlightening or provides more profound insights, I walk away completely energized and free.

But I honestly thought that was just fun. And that everyone does this!

I didn’t realize how much I would miss that part of me and that it actually needs be consistently nourished if it doesn’t just happen naturally in my environment. Until relatively recently, looking back at this unique experience, such as going through my Masters program, it was such an intensely intellectual period of my life. These pages were written well over 9 years ago now, and tonight as I flip through them, I’m . . . amazed?

Who IS this girl? For sure I feel a rush of memories assail me, flooding back as if I was sitting in those critiques, jotting down notes in lectures, gathering interesting information in the library and trying to reflect on my process in the studio. All essential things to be doing during the program.

But it seems so far away now. As I flip through reading bullet points and messy scribbles of hard to read handwriting, it was like I couldn’t capture the ideas fast enough.

And that’s exactly what I remember. The feeling of utter frustration that while I had access to all these juicy ideas either from material I read or the professors themselves, at the same time, I was completely over-stimulated and bombarded constantly. I had almost no time to process, digest, shift through, pause, absorb or reflect.

I loved the intellectual stimulation though, and even in that arena at that time I was aware at how unique that academic experience provides. But as I came back down from that experience of being constantly overstuffed and overfed to . . . nothing after graduation, it was quite a shock. Back to the real world where obligations of work and family were once again the priority. I had a reprieve but because my husband had little interest in the world that I was consumed in for over two years, it felt very isolating and lonely.

No wonder I failed to engage back into routine life.

Fast forward to today, almost a decade after this journal was written, I look through it with a completely new perspective. Perhaps this is good timing. I am a totally different person now. I am also very much detached from the experience, I would say in a healthy way. Perhaps it is time to revisit and re-engage with some of these ideas, make them my own and internalize them.

The total wilderness of constant info, prompted responses, reflections, insight and just plain thrashing of your artwork and the constant demand to defend it in your own right, completely took a tole on my emotional and intellectual psyche. What was actually me, what did I actually think? What did I believe? Why did I believe it?

In the end, the experience completely intellectualized the entire creative process. This is not abnormal when trying to fit any creative and innovative thinking into some kind of structure, and academia certainly one of the most challenging areas simply because how can you “grade” a piece of artwork?

That is why I do remember people advised me not to go back to MFA program and just keep painting. But a part of me wanted this intellectual stimulus that jolted me out of my everyday life and exposed me to so many new ideas. But, at what cost?

There certainly is a place for critical thinking in art. But, as I’ve come to work on my own again, for me, that place is after the art has been created. When I’m in the middle of creating, it’s in my opinion, that’s when the critical thinking part of our brains need to be turned OFF and the gut and intuitive decisions need to be turned ON.

I’m amazed I have a complete record written down in front of me that I can just jump back in a flip through - like a time warp. It is now, thankfully, stripped of all that EGO (mine & the professors), all the ulterior motives and selfish guiding instead of heart-felt mentoring.

Sadly, that’s what I most remember being particularly painful at the end. I made it through this rigorous experience but I still had very little trust that the instructors truly had my overall well being in mind. My creative journey, my art, was an instrument for their personal ego to manifest whatever intentions or motivations they deemed the “best.” I’ve never been before or since then, around such brazen ego in my life!

And as much as I truly wanted to respect them and their work, most often, I was face-to-face with some really nasty and pettish people! People that I did not even like or would want to be around or get to know in my normal life. The politics to me were unbelievable and it wasn’t even in a top #1 program like Yale!

So perhaps it is time. Time to bury the negative and look for the gems of the positive in my journals. Gleam any nuggets of information or insight that might be valuable to me here and now. Honoring the freedom of brainstorming and thinking of new ideas and how that makes me feel - stimulating, energizing, life-giving.

But above all, the entire experience once again reminds me that any person, (but especially artists), ultimately we must all listen to our own inner voice. If our motivations are true, then our hearts will align with our Higher Purpose and listening to our voice is the only way to move forward. And this apply to all great artists - whatever art you are creating in your daily life!

Painting that changed my life

As I sat on my bed in my hotel room in Southern France in 2002, I knew that something had changed but couldn’t put my finger on it. I was mad! Frustrated that I couldn’t figure this out. It was like when you’re a little kid and the teacher or maybe your best friend is telling you “You have to be IN the lines Katy! IN the lines!” It kind of felt like that! I had taken art classes since I was 11 when I first looked upon one of my friend’s portrait of a woman he had made himself and copied out of a National Geographic magazine. It was just a girl and it was just a portrait done in pencil. But I was absolutely astonished! How the heck did he do that? It looks so perfect! So real! Could I do that? Taking art classes that young was definitely beneficial. I learned very early that yes, anyone could be taught how to draw like that. It was a skill to be worked on. It was clear that the traditional method of how to draw portraits or sketch landscapes was how to see the world like an artist. How to read light, how to abstract shape. How to learn little tricks such as using one simple line curved in the right way popped out an eyelid, or created the pupil and suggested the twinkle in that eye. It was really fun. And it gave me a lot of encouragement that I could draw like that too.

And I drew and drew and copied and copied from photographs, magazines, calendar images, advertisements, etc. Some of them weren’t exact - cause again I would get impatient with my details. But I tried.

And I went all the way through my High School years never once thinking I’m an artist. I even decided to do the art program in my Liberal Arts college and wanted to do graphic design to be “practical.” But I still didn’t see myself as an artist, as a creator, as a designer, whatever. I was interested in the subject matter but not very talented. Everyone else was way better than me. ESP one of my good friends who had always grown up doing what normal artists did - lounging around the school lobby sketching his peers from life, going out into nature and rendering the rabbit or deer. He was (and still is) an AMAZING real life artist. His paintings, sketches, renderings, you name it are incredible. In fact he has been paid to sketch scientific illustrations for the Smithsonian - the kind that have to be so exact, down to the millemeter of particular species of animals or birds, it’s impressive.

But he was an artist. That’s the way artists should be.

But that was not me in any way. I soon got very bored. And just kind of floated through college with not a lot of purpose, feeling instinctively that I was drawn to art but never gave myself permission. We also had an eccentric professor who had been taught a specific watercolor technique from California/1950’s. I later learned this but at the time didn’t think about it of course. We were taught very specific techniques from him, as well as the tradition of plein air painting. It was not until the France abroad my senior year in the fall that I finally got it —I don’t like plein air painting!! (But now I realize that’s where I get a lot of my “watercolor” influence now).

As I look back I realized I was frustrated and very bored with my college art classes. I didn’t know it at the time of course, but the lack of practical guidance and individual encouragement to find one’s own “personal style” was completely void. You either learned how to paint like this professor or you got B’s. Well I got B’s. So I thought I was no good and therefore didn’t understand it because I felt like I was painting like I was “supposed to” but there was nothing I could understand or hold onto concept-wise. I never did know what I was doing or what I was supposed to do. It was uber frustrating!

On the France abroad fall of my senior year, we would visit towns in the south along our route and by the time we got to the Dordogne area, I was so angry at my professor because it was just a freakin guessing game. He would come over to each of us and talk about things but it was abstract to me or way too specific. For some reason I wasn’t getting it and still after 4 years I didn’t have a clue what he wanted from me.

I was so upset I just picked up my stuff and headed back to my hotel room. In the peace and quiet, I popped in a CD I had made of Mozart (yes no apple devices yet - this was well over a decade ago!).

And an amazing thing happened. I let completely go. And created a painting that was a conversation in my head with the professor. I did everything that he “didn’t want me to do” and when asked “why?,” I responded “I DON’T CARE!!”. The result was something I had NEVER produced before. And I had no idea what to make of it. It was a church, a church from memory (even though I have a terrible memory) but it was . . . abstract to me. And completely foreign.

After I made it, I stared and stared. I felt incrementally that I had made something different that this was a “turning point” but still couldn’t decide what to make of it. I certainly felt good, felt relieved and felt like this was mine. I didn’t feel that I liked it necessarily but it was still like “did I just do that?”

Every night we would all gather together for a show and tell. I had labored back and forth whether to bring it down and finally I thought “F-it! who cares! that’s what I did today so everyone can just be mortified. I put it down with all the other beautiful creations. And held my breath. I watched as one by one my art colleagues and friends passed it by. They would nod and smile and point at other friend’s work and say “nice job!” or “I love that!” “wow!” but not one word about my little painting. Not one word.

And then out of no where, a voice beside my ear whispered, “Katy, did you make that?” I spun around face to face with none other then my . . . professor!! I gulped. “YES.” There was this pause and then he whispered, “well I would like to see MORE of that!”

WHAT?!?! What? I don’t think I heard you? MORE OF THAT?! More of WHAT? I was stunned.

That was it! That was all my church painting got in a response. And I was completely bewildered. I was 100% positive I would get reprimanded and or worse, just ignored. But I got a response! And not just any response but a whole-hearted positive encouragement!

*******************

Well I can’t tell you the ending to this story because there was no such thing until years later when I finally concluded I had to make art (even though I still wasn’t “an artist). I wish I could say that I went on to create all these paintings and came out of college bursting with energy and confidence because I was a painter!!! an artist! But that’s not how life is. This painting was subtle, so subtle I barely missed it.

I spent the rest of the abroad not knowing what the hell I was doing still, totally in a muffle because to be honest, I had no clue how I made that thing! You think that’s stupid to say but I had spent all of my young adult life thinking there was only one way to be an artist (sound familiar?) To suddenly turn that around took a great deal of self-confidence and time.

At the end of the semester my professor pulled me aside and asked why he hadn’t seen anymore work like the church I had made? I told him honestly I didn’t know what I was doing and didn’t know if I could recreate that.

chartres

Thankfully the next spring semester was a senior project where we could work on art that we wanted to do. That was the semester where I really experimented with my new style. And guess what? I LOVED IT! LOVED IT LOVED IT!

I remember clearly one incident with my good friend (you remember the guy I grew up with in High School that made all those awesome “real-life” scientific drawings?”). My professor came over to his work that was very detailed, perfectly drawn with the animals, perspective, beautiful layering of paint, etc. and they discussed very specifically that the palm tree leaves in front needed to “go back further in space.” They were too forward, and need to recede. very specific and very exact.

Then professor came over to me and stood there for a couple seconds, and finally just said “that dark blob there? Looks good! But this area - needs something . . . . a bit more . . . . ” I beamed. Yes! We were FINALLY speaking the same language! Wow!

My friend immediately sauntered over to what I was working on and just shook his head, “Courageous Kate . . . you have a lot more courage then I do!” hah! I just laughed feeling suddenly very free. No matter how hard he tried, I believed he couldn’t paint like me - I had found some magical recipe only for me!

I found out later from my professor after that semester and it school was over, he confided in me that he actually wanted to create more abstract work like mine (like mine?!?! what the heck?) He said that all of his life he thought “true art” was what he was taught from his master teachers. And he loved it. But later in life he realized he got so bored with it all and never really “got” the abstraction movement that paralleled his life but late in life realized that was the real challenge. And he felt he couldn’t cross that bridge. It was actually too foreign, too scary? I was shocked. He seemed, regretful and almost sad. He congratulated me for doing it and said to keep going.

I look back at this whole experience clearly grateful for it. It was not earth-shattering by any means. And I realize too that with all my frustrations with my professor, at least he recognized something unique in me. Even if he himself didn’t know how to keep bringing it out of me then. He still recognized it and encouraged me to explore that way of painting. That I will never forget.

Because with that, I remembered this experience 5 years later when I found myself enrolled in a Masters program, a thousand miles from my husband completely alone in the middle of cornfields (literally). This professor may not have been able to lead me down the new path, but he definitely pointed me in the right direction. It was just up to my though to decide if that’s a path I wanted to go down.

After school I got married right away (probably too early!) and dove head first into facing the hard-core reality of trying to make it in downtown Chicago, with my new husband commuting to his first real job ever and myself, having the pressure of temping to find my own job. It was a very scary time and very stressful. I completely put that college experience behind me. I still wasn’t “an artist.” I wasn’t anything really. I hardly could do any design work and I was supposed to do design?

All I knew is that in my heart I wasn’t made to just sit at the computer filling out excel spreadsheets (some people are! like my husband and mother-in-law!). But I needed something more.

I didn’t know that the next 3 years was my ultimate confidence-booster. And I needed a mentor that could help shape my non-existent confidence into something I could fall back and on and actually use. That was where I landed a marketing job with a new fledgling commercial real estate firm run by 2 Jewish brokers straight from NYC.

Painting? Put on hold and to be continued . . .

jazz