Randy and Art Class. And Me.
Contributor

Artistic: fourth from the right, top row.
Un-artistic: fourth from the right, second row.
Grade three art class.
So much fun with so many things artistic.
None of them me.
I’m not sure, but I think when artistic ability was handed out in Heaven, I was outside.
Doing something else.
Or if I was there, my ability was poured in with a teaspoon and someone jiggled Heavenly Father’s elbow.
Moving on . . .
Others in my class were gifted with a bit more.
Quite a bit more.
One boy in particular was amazing.
And it was to Randy that I looked whenever a new assignment was handed out.
He never let me down.
We were in grade three, and had been given large pieces of paper and paints and instructed to paint a tree, I immediately turned to see what he did.
And how he did it.
He started with a graceful, fluid line of brown from the bottom of the page to the top.
I dipped my brush in my brown paint.
And made a streak.
That’s all. A streak. Heavy. Clumsy.
And distinctly un-graceful.
Sigh.
I tried to fix it.
It became an ungraceful streak that . . . thickened.
My teacher asked me, kindly, if I’d like to start again. I received my new piece of paper with relief bordering on giddiness.
And proceeded to do the same thing.
Oh, I did produce a tree.
But I had to label it so others would know.
Another time, we were given pictures to colour with our new pressed-wax crayons, and I fared better.
Again, I craned my neck to see what Randy would do.
His Santa picture was coloured heavily, completely filling in the spaces.
No white specks showing at all.
I tried to copy his technique.
But without his results.
Oh, I managed to stay within the lines. And it even turned out . . . acceptable.
But it just didn’t have the flare – the snap – that Randy’s did.
But I was nothing, if not persistent.
Every picture from then on was coloured with great intent. A lot of crayon.
And Randy’s technique.
But with equally disappointing results.
Then, a few months later, Randy changed things up.
For this newest colouring project, he outlined each space heavily, then proceeded to fill in lightly.
I could almost feel my mother’s relief as requests for new boxes of crayons . . . diminished. In fact, I think my current box and Randy’s new method actually lasted me through the end of the year.
Progress!
I kept on trying. And sometimes, was actually satisfied with my efforts.
But, by the end of grade three, I had realized something.
When it comes to things artistic:
Some do.
Others appreciate.
I’m definitely in the second category.
And I’m happy there.

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