When I was in the first grade I painted a parrot during art class. The detail was intricate, the design was flawless, and the critiques were top notch. Now you are probably thinking to yourselves, well of course they were, you were in first grade. No one is going to discourage the creativity of a 5 year old! However, I must have it known that this was no ordinary first grade art project. It was truly extraordinary.
From that point on, my family and friends believed that I was destined to become the next Georgia O’keeffe. Unfortunately for them, and myself, with every passing year, my artistic talent seemed not to blossom and grow as one might think, but diminish and fade until, by the 5th grade, not even my handwriting was art worthy.
It actually became so horribly awful that my friends would no longer allow me to sign communal birthday cards, sighting my horrible print as a worthy fault. I longed for the days of the parrot, hoped and dreamed for legible script, and would even tell people that if I could have one additional talent, it would be to paint.
As the years went on, I flourished in other artistic outlets such as singing, theater, and dance (or so I tell myself), but there was always something missing. I wanted to paint.
Last night gave me that opportunity. I took what some would call a child’s tool, Crayons, and turned it into a masterpiece of the likes of my parrot. Because I have been so harshly judged for my handwriting and art failures, I do believe that I have the right to boast about this rather wonderful phenomenon. It is truly spectacular. All one needs is a canvas, some hot glue or sturdy tape, a plethora of crayons (only pretty colors), and a hair blow dryer. I have every intention to send this painting to my first grade teacher and let the destiny rewrite itself 15 years later.