The online event calendar held endless opportunities. After finding one that suited me, I circled the date on my own calendar, secured my place in the class, and eagerly awaited the end of the week. The instruction would be a Breakfast at Tiffany’s inspired painting. Not flowers or trees or a beach scene, although those appealed to me, too. I went for something that seemed easy enough for a first painting class.
Wine flowed among the attendees while a local artist gave step-by-step instructions. I got a boost of confidence when he stopped beside me and complimented my use of color. A different section of painting, and feeling less secure in my efforts, I faltered, brush poised over the canvas. He said, “Don’t be afraid of it.” I realized my over-active inner critic, and her best friend Perfectionist, had shown up to the painting party. I also let his words swirl like the red liquid before me. It didn’t have to be perfect. Nor was it going to be. In fact, one of the gloved hands of my ‘Holly’ turned out looking like a pointed lobster claw instead of rounded fingers. Upon returning home, I proudly displayed the painting with all its numerous, clumsy flaws in my study.
bubble up in wine glasses
Fall onto a stained canvas.