Painting was never my forte despite three fruitless years of art classes in high school. In three years, I managed to produce two whole pieces of art that I was proud of and I haven't a clue where they are now. Not that we didn't have a talented instructor, but poor Mr. Godwin never really excelled at keeping his unruly students in order. By my junior year, I think he had pretty much given up on our group as he spent his hour long class time locked in his office smoking cigarettes until the bell rang and he was rid of us. Due to my contributions to Mr. Godwin's ulcers, I was barred from taking art my senior year.
There were some talented and productive student's in the class however, namely Mike and Steve, and how they managed to accomplish anything in the midst of the rest of us is beyond me.
I had known Mike since grade school and he had always been amazingly talented and uncharacteristically advanced in drawing as well as academics. He was my sweetheart in first grade.
I remember how he used to draw Superman with such precision and detail that he was often accused of tracing it. Once in third grade, we were carving pumpkins at Halloween. Mike was in my group and since he was undisputedly the best artist in the class, we charged him with the task of sketching the face upon the pumpkin that we would carve. When he finished however, he had drawn the face three dimensional - appearing as it would as if it had already been carved... he could not understand for the life of him why that wouldn't work.
In high school, Mike was always busy painting while the rest of us assed off and reeked havoc and always he produced something utterly amazing. And then, much to my horror, before the paint had yet dried, he would paint over it and start on something new. I think he must have used the same canvas for years. It used to kill my soul to watch this... what I wouldn't have given for an ounce of his talent and I often wonder what he's doing with his life now.
Of course, I've never been one to recognize opportunities as they presented themselves early in my life. Perhaps I was too immature, stubborn, or just plain stupid, whatever the case, life is too short for regrets and by the time you're approaching forty, you just have to work with what ya got. ...And perhaps one day, I'll give painting another shot.
Meanwhile, I have fallen victim to a blooming obsession as I have discovered an abundance of talented artists selling their passions for reasonable fares on none other than eBay...
This is one such painting: "Frida Khalo with Brush," an original acrylic on canvas by Mexican folk artist Claudia Garcia.
I've always been enamored with Frida Khalo. Apparently, I am not alone as there are many Frida inspired paintings, jewelry, and other random artsy things out there as well as reproductions of her work.
Garcia's painting is her interpretation of Frida's likeness and, while not bearing a realistically striking resemblance, it is her clean and simple folk art style that appealed to me. It was the symbolilc sentiment, combined with those amazing eyes, however, that sold me.
And it looks beautiful on my wall.
"I paint self portraits because I am the person I know best."