Laura Jeanne Grimes, artist
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How did I decide to be an artist?

8/25/2013

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Today, I received an email from a student asking me the question: "What inspired you to become an artist?"  She is working on a project at school, found my website, and decided to ask me the question.  Here is my reply.
Hi, Kia, I hope my reply is not too late to help you with your project.

I think I always was an artist.  One of my very earliest memories is of finger-painting and how magical it seemed to dip my finger in the paint and make marks on that huge (to me) sheet of paper.  I was probably either three or four years old.  I also remember going to a friend's house, probably when I was five years old.  She had the 64-color box of Crayola crayons (with the built-in sharpener).  It was a revelation to me that there could be that many colors!  I remember how excited I was.

As childhood continued, I always colored, drew, painted -- in child-like fashion of course.  I remember in 6th grade I became fascinated with Greek mythology and did a series of paintings based on the Greek myths, in tempera paints on poster board.  I remember showing them to my babysitter, Mrs. Beck.  Many years later, I visited her in the nursing home and she mentioned that I had been an "eccentric" child, a label I accepted with pride.

In 9th grade, I had the privilege of taking Art at school.  My first semester teacher spent those months teaching us how to draw, a profound gift for which I shall always be grateful.  The second semester, we had a different teacher, whose thing was "just be creative."  This was no use at all.  It was like putting someone in front of a piano, telling them to bang away, and expecting them to write a sonata.  My first semester teacher had the right idea all along.  First, teach them the skills.

In 10th grade, I moved in with my father and step-mother.  My father would not allow me to take art classes, because he considered that a waste of time.  I doodled quite a lot.  I remember buying an oil-painting kit and doing a few paintings on my own from photographs. 

After I graduated from high school in 1972, my step-mother kicked me out. I had a week to leave and found a job as a nanny. I had to figure out what I wanted to do.  I knew I wanted to go to college.  I applied to the University of Houston, got accepted, and I packed up and moved to Houston (not knowing a soul).  I wanted to major in art.  But, I made a B in my first art class.  My father had drilled into me that any grade less than an A was a failure.  So, I decided I wasn't "good enough" to be an artist.  I majored in art history instead.  With a combination of academic scholarships, part-time jobs, and a student loan, I graduated summa cum laude with my art history degree in 1977.  I did this with no support, neither financial nor emotional, from my parents. 

About a year later, I got married. When we tried to start a family, we began what turned into a long journey thru years of infertility treatments.  After awhile of waiting for the baby who never came, I realized I needed to do something to get out of the deep depression I was stuck in.  I took a community school art class.  Then, I started going to a life-drawing studio once a week. (Neither were for credit.)  This led me, at age 29, to apply to the University of Texas at Austin to be an art major. By that time, I had learned how foolish my father's perfectionism really was.  With the art history degree already under my belt, I was able to concentrate on the studio art classes, and earned my Bachelor of Fine Arts in 1986.

A year later, we adopted our first baby.  Then 4 years later, we adopted our second boy.  One of the dirty little secrets of art school is how very difficult it is to be a parent, particularly a mother, and still produce artwork.  I continued to do art, but with a much smaller output.  I have a huge stack of "baby in the bathtub" drawings, all done in a minute or less because he was having so much fun in the tub.  When the second boy started kindergarten, I was able to return to my artwork.

I will say, very frankly, that I have been blessed having a husband who was fine all along with me not "working," i.e. not having full-time employment outside of the home.  We could have had a more "lavish" life-style if I had.  But, neither of us cared about that. Because of his support, I have had the luxury of time to devote to artwork.

I also must say, again very frankly, that I have not "Made It."  Whatever that means.  I host one life drawing studio a week, and I coordinate five others thru my Meetup Group.  I don't have gallery representation.  I am currently sub-letting a wall at an artist's coop, so I have a place to exhibit my work and take anyone who would like to see it.  I also show in the regular art exhibits at my church.  And, I have been in some local juried exhibits.  Because of my work promoting lifedrawing here, Austin, Texas now has a much larger number of lifedrawing open studios a week than many bigger cities, such as Dallas.  I am contacted by artists almost every day who ask to join the group.  People being as they are, possibly 10% of the those that contact me actually follow thru and attend one or more studios a week. 

When I meet high school and college art students, I tell them I can absolutely predict whether or not they will still be doing artwork in 30 years.  Then I ask them these questions: "Do you do artwork during the Christmas break?"  "Do you do artwork during the summer?"  I am asking them the question, do you do artwork when no one is telling you to do it?  When there is no grade, no school credit?  If the answer is "No," and especially if the answer about summer is, "No, I work during the summer," then they will most likely not continue doing artwork after graduation. Because, after graduation, you have to get a job!  When it comes to art, you must be self-motivated.  It helps to meet with other artists, at least now and then, to get validation that art is actually important.  I guarantee you, very few non-artist people think it is!  At least, not in the United States. 

So, I do my artwork.  Even tho there isn't a grade.  No school credit.  Very few sales.  Very little encouragement from the wide-wide world.  I do it despite the obstacles, because I must.

I hope this has been a helpful response, and if you have any other questions or any comments you would like to make, please feel free to email me.

thanx

laura


And, for you gentle readers, here is today's version of the 64-color box of crayons.  And, a jpeg of a drawing I did that first semester in 9th grade. I look at that drawing now and think "Wow, OCD!"
Picture
Picture
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The Dream I Dreamt

8/13/2013

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Picture
    This piece is based on a dream that began as a nightmare and ended as a sweet dream. As background, the night before, I had suffered terrible nightmares all night long. My husband woke me up at least twice, but when I fell back asleep, the nightmares came right back. That morning, I managed to teach my yoga class without letting on, then came home and stumbled into bed. I then began this dream: In the dream, I was driving, but I was so exhausted, I knew I shouldn't drive. I pulled over into a parking lot, where some kind of childrens camp was happening. I got out of the car and staggered around, losing both my iPhone and my iPad. I tried to support myself on a concrete column, but was sliding down. A man came and said, "I'm a doctor, I'm going to help you." He supported me and helped me lie down. Another man came over and said, "I'm a doctor, too, and I'm going to help you too." Both of them were treating me. Then a third man came and said, "I'm a doctor, too, and I'm going to help you too." I was saying, "I want my Mommy." This is a strange thing, because I never, as far back as I can recall, thought of my mother as a source of help and comfort. Then a woman came, with a kitty and a bunny and let me pet them. I started to feel a little better. One doctor said, "I'm done, now," and left. Then the second doctor said, "I'm done, now," and left, too. Then the first dooctor said, "Your blood pressure has come down now." And I asked, "Does that mean I'm better now?" 

And, I woke up.

I completely woke up. I went from dream to wide awake in a nanosecond, I think. I had that moment of disorientation, then I said, "Thank you, God, for taking care of me." All the agitation of the nightmares the night before was gone, and I felt at peace.

Here is my interpretation: the three doctors were God, in the Persons of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. And, the woman was my mother, who died just around a year ago. She love kitty-cats, as she always called them. And she owned a bunny, as she called him, for some time. In life, she was never a source of help or comfort. She had never been nurtured herself. I think she did love us, inside, but she didn't know how to be a mother in the first place, and, when her alcoholism took over, her tendency toward neglect became even worse. But now, she is in Heaven. She is the person she was always supposed to be, the person God created her to be. So, in the dream, she brought the kitty and the bunny to be a comfort to me.

It started as another nightmare, and ended sweetly. When does that ever happen? I consider that dream a gift.



I created this piece using the Sketch Club app for iPad, August 12th, 2013.

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