In the old days of being 'me' I used to draw. Not painting, that wasnt my thing. But drawing I felt able and I loved it. Admittedly it was used in a design sense rather than a free and artistic way but I knew how it felt and how it was meant to work on the page.
Somewhere along the way I drew less and less until I realised that I didnt think I could anymore.
I am a firm believer that we are all born able to create art but school and society and parents with conventional mortgage dreams, drag it out of many of us. The lucky ones manage to hold onto it or recapture it.
My hands became used to doing other things. Mainly with fabrics.
Then my husband bought me a Wacom tablet for my birthday. What you say? No jewels for turning forty??
No. But its ok. He didnt just buy me the basic model. He told me he saw down the track so he bought me the semi professional model. Heart. Failure. Mine.
To start with, the stylus and I had very very different ideas about how this was meant to happen. My eyes didnt know where to look-at the screen or at my hand with the "pencil" ?
I am slowly realising all the truly amazing things this tablet will allow me to do. Including painting which has never been for me. My Grampa was always the painter. The artist.
But I'm brave on the tablet. And my eyes and hand seem to be getting better aquainted again. Baby steps.