Here's to the People Who Fire Our Dreams and Support Us. part 1

Hello friends...

 Today, I'm thinking about the people who fire our dreams and support them. And for me there have been a lot of people who have helped me get here... to the point of where I paint and share my work on a full time basis. So many in fact, that I'm sure I'll leave people out. So I'll apologize for that ahead of time.

      This all comes with the passing of my 95 year old Aunt Tuesday morning. I feel compelled to write about her and everyone else who helped my on my path. Aunt Marj was one of the woman artists in my family. She liked painting landscapes in oils. My Grandmother, my Aunt and an older Sister all were artists. My Mother loved art and filled the house with art books and classical music. My Father, a scientist not an artist, was incredibly creative. So I grew up around people who loved art and creativity.
     Aunt Marj was my mother's twin - fraternal. They were very different from each other and yet similar. Having lost my mom 13 years ago Marj was the closest thing to my mother that my sisters and I could get. She was a social worker who loved gardening, genealogy, photography, painting and animals. As I grew I came to love those things too.

But it wasn't Marj who bought me paints and sketch books for Christmas. It was my sister Karen, who

is a gifted artist in her own right. She knew I was an artist long before I did. I just thought it was something I enjoyed doing.

Alice Frisque and I were the best artists throughout grade school. It helped me when I was an awkward kid with dyslexia. (But in the late 60's we didn't have these labels. I was just the "dumb" kid who couldn't spell and was in the lower reading level.) I was happy to have something I was "better" than most at. I learned to compensate for my dyslexia by the time I hit junior high and I no longer needed art in the same way. I still took art classes throughout high school but lacked the confidence in my work to take it very seriously.

It wasn't until my sophomore year in college, when I took a drawing class as an elective, that I rediscovered art and fell in love with it all over again. At Uof I  I had incredible teachers who drove me to do my best like Ed Betts, Jerry Savage and Roger Batley. They loved art so much that it shined through in their teaching methods. I was hooked.

I met my future husband my junior year. He was an architect student and had a deep appreciation of the arts. He encouraged my work through out our marriage. As we grew our family I had three different careers to add to the financial support of our family. My art took a back seat, but it was never too far away. Mark always seemed to know what art tools I needed way before I ever knew I needed them; an art easel which was a bridal shower gift from his family, a table  to work on, a desk in the dinning room as my office etc. I took classes at local colleges and continued my craft.

 I always told Mark that when I grew up I wanted to become a painter.  A few years ago, Mark asked me at just what age I would feel grown up enough to become that painter I always dreamed about? He was right. How was I going to feel if I had lived my whole life without doing something that was so important to myself personally?

end of part 1
Please return next Thursday for the rest of the story.