Mother's Day Out - the Indonesian version

When my son was young, I enrolled him in a Mother's Day Out program. Typically, that was the time that I would schedule appointments or take care of things that were difficult to do with a little one in tow. When he got older, he attended various camps and activities during the summer. I loved picking him up and seeing what the artistic creation du jour was. Usually it involved macaroni, glitter, Mardi Gras beads, clothes pins and or toilet tissue rolls.

His little smiling face would go between looking at his project and my face to see if I was totally getting how utterly fabulous it was. I truly got it and just like millions of parents everywhere, displayed it proudly. The "Hall of Fame" area would have to be culled due to over crowding. Old stuff had to be moved for new things to take their place. I think we still have every single one of them tucked away somewhere among all of our things in the storage facility that is holding our goods until we return. They better take good care of them or Mom is NOT going to be happy.

Now, you are wondering what in the heck does this have to do with my blog. Well, I am going to tell you. One of the things that I have wanted to do for a very long time is to paint. This has been a desire for more years than I care to admit. I signed up for an art course my senior year in college, but chickened out and dropped it before I even got started. I have multiple blank canvases, in storage, that I have attempted to paint. However, I could never get past where to begin. I don't know why in the world I didn't just stick with the first one and stare at it instead of adding additional blank surfaces to mock me. Was the next new canvas suppose to be the one to break the spell? Massive performance anxiety at its worst.

With the move to Jakarta, I decided to try and pursue this desire to paint. As great luck would have it, there is a British woman who lives within walking distance of my house who gives art lessons. She has been painting for over 20 years. She has a MFA and is a very prolific acrylic artist. Every Thursday afternoon, I pass through her gate and into her home and do art. She has room for 8 students. I am so happy to be one of them.

The first class was all about blending and shading and values. I like that she teaches art based on the gray scale just like in photography. Those of you who are familiar with Ansel Adams, the master of black and white landscapes and the fellow who introduced the zone system, will understand what I mean. It was a good exercise for me and the end result was acceptable for a beginner. It was raining when I finished class, so I had to have my driver come and get me so my painting wouldn't get drenched. I came out smiling and jumped in the car and rode home.

During the second class, we did a collage on plexiglas. A totally different concept, but one that exercised the brain. I whined on and off through the class. You had to lay out the basic idea, then do it in reverse on to the plexiglas. The front of the plexiglas had a piece of protective paper over it so you couldn't really see what it looked like until it was all over. At this point I begin to realize that I am sharing some pre-schooler tendencies. Whining about stuff and getting paint on me and my clothes. I complete my project and peel off the paper and clap my hands. Looks pretty darn good. Once again it is pouring rain, as we are now in to the rainy season. I text message my driver to please come and get me. This time, he is on his way home from picking up my honey pie from work. I wait a bit and I see my sweetie come through the gate with an umbrella. I come out the door showing off my new art work and smiling this big ol' goofy smile. What fun! I have now officially regressed to kindergartner status. I have to show off what I made and tell everyone all about what I did today.

During this past Thursday's class, the teacher turned us loose to paint either what we wanted or something that she set up. I had photographed this really cool fern that we have growing in a container on our patio. I thought it would make a neat painting. I sketched a likeness of it on to the canvas and lugged it to class. My teacher liked it and began to give me instructions and pointers on how to begin. I could feel the anxiety building and just kind of sat there. She suggested that I do the entire painting out of one color so it would act as a kind of underpainting and give shadow and depth to the next layers. I wet my brush and began to paint.

I am sure if she had made a video of me painting, my tongue was sticking out of the side of my mouth at times and my brow furrowed in concentration. I turned my painting this way and that and the picture this way and that and my head this way and that. I am surprised that I wasn't dizzy by the end of the class. After three and a half hours the teacher looked at my canvas and told me to step away from it so I could see what I had done. Holy moley! I couldn't believe I had acutally made something that you could tell what it was. It wasn't like, "Nice pony you painted there sweetie." It looked like the fern in my photograph. Only in shades of blue.

I felt kind of bad that I was the last person to leave. My teacher had much better things to do I am sure. It just so happened that this Thursday afternoon it had stopped raining by the time I finished. Therefore, I walked home carrying my creation. If you saw me walking home, please tell me that I didn't skip. I was just so excited! I got home and sat my painting where it could be admired when honey bunch walked through the door.

He arrived not too long after I did and oohhed and ahhhed. The problem is now I am afraid to apply the remaining layers because I fear I can't repeat this act of magic again. My poor teacher.

As you read this, I am sure you think I have either lost it or am having a second childhood experience. I hope it is the latter and not the former. This has been an unexpected perk of our move. One I had not quite anticipated but am so very happy that it offered itself to me.

This time Mother's Day Out has taken on a whole new meaning for me. I am the one doing the art projects. I come out of class and smile and show off . It is such a delightfully good time.

Here's to being brave. Being unafraid to dive in. Enjoying creative adventures even if they involve macaroni.