I am a terrible artist. Hey, sometimes it’s important to recognize your strengths and your weaknesses. Art was never my strong point. I was dealt a bad hand. My fine motor skills have never been great. Colorblindness certainly doesn’t help.
But on one random day in 1999, something clicked, something similar to what athletes call the zone, the zenith of your body’s potential. I was in my third grade art class, and we were tasked with drawing any object in the room. I chose to draw my shoe because, well, I really have no idea. I removed my shoe, placed it on the table, and started to draw. And after a few minutes, the drawing was actually looking good. Really good. It was as if my hands moved without me controlling them. It was nothing short of divine intervention.
A few weeks later, my art teacher said that my shoe drawing would be featured in an exhibit at the local library. She must have recognized the post-modern minimalism, which was always my intent.
You have to understand – this was an incredibly exciting, if not unexpected, moment for my 8-year old self. A decade-and-a-half later, I am still proud. I remember going to the library, looking at the shoe, and thinking to myself Yeah, I made that.
The piece is now displayed prominently at my house.
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