My parents didn't get me. In spite of this fact, I'm grateful they did understand art was important to me. They never discouraged me from my work and for the most part, they never belittled my artwork, no matter how much they didn't understand it. Any disparaging remark was unintentional.
The void my parents' lack of understanding created was never filled. But there were individuals who were pillars of support. The first and most important pillar was my mentor. I worked with him for twelve years. Starting as a freshman in college, I would take his classes both within the university and privately. I remember during one class I was using charcoal and he approached me to show me that if I dampened the charcoal I would get a deep, rich black. Instead of being shamed for my messiness, I was recognized and encouraged in my creative endeavors. I believe I formed a fundamental trust at that moment. The bond continued throughout undergraduate school, in the years between undergraduate and graduate school and was maintained throughout my MFA studies. Throughout these years, he nurtured my courage to create and belief in myself as an artist. I am grateful.
Another pillar came quite unexpectedly in the form of a well known artist who came to evaluate the university's art program. In my studio he saw a drawing, turned to me and said "I understand." The feeling of connectedness was breathtaking. I felt visible. Only lately do I muse about not inquiring as to what he understood about the drawing. Perhaps, what he saw was totally out of sync with what I was expressing. But then I trust my instincts and believe that through the drawing we shared the experience of life's mystery.
Finally, my models were a source of strength and inspiration to me. During times of uncertainty their patience and enthusiasm supported me. One time I complained that I would like to relax in the evenings by watching t.v. instead of painting. My model looked at me and without skipping a beat told me that would be a waste of talent.
