I remember sitting in class. I was about 12, sitting next to my best friend & our regular teacher was away. For some reason we were drawing. My friend suggested we draw a turtle. I attempted to draw a realistic looking turtle, looking down at it from above so you could see mostly shell, with legs, head & tail just poking out. My friend drew her turtle side on, with a lovely domed shell on it’s back. I think it also had a hat & there was a flower (or a balloon) somewhere as well.
My drawing was badly done. Hers was something I had never really noticed before. I thought drawing a turtle meant drawing a (real) turtle (maybe that was the scientist coming out in me even then). She has drawn a turtle with character, almost cartoonish. A friendly, cheeky looking turtle. The substitute teacher walked past, noticed us drawing & stopped to comment. She looked briefly at my page … no comment. Then she saw my friend’s drawing of the turtle. Well! She raved about what obvious talent my friend had & told her about these drawing classes that she must attend.
Well, that’s how I remembered it happening anyway. That’s my 12 year olds reality. I finished high school, dismissing any idea of taking art as a subject. “Oh no, me take art? I can’t draw!”
Now I know better. Of course I couldn’t draw. I’d never been shown, I’d never practiced. I also didn’t know how to drive a car, change a nappy or make fried rice.
As it is I still can’t draw as well as I’d like. I know I don’t practice enough. But I enjoy the process and every now & again I take out my pencils and sketchbooks and just draw. Just for fun.