[continued from previous post on May 4, 2017]

The sight of a paintbrush and palette excite my brain and arouse my senses.  The messier and juicier it is, the more stimulated I am. I seemed to have lost this desire to create so as I drove to North Carolina, I was hoping that somehow I would find my {he}art again.

It was nice to get in the car and drive for 14 hours . . . I highly recommend it for privacy, quiet time and the ability to get away from distractions.  Road trips are essential.  I listened to an audio book for hours {a luxury} and I sobbed out loud at times {a gift to allow myself the private time to do this.} I prayed and I pondered and I stopped to stretch and to eat and to refuel.

I checked into my hotel, slept soundly and got ready for a day of art classes. I was looking forward to disappearing in the crowd of other students.  I knew no one, and not a soul knew my story. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time.

I chose my classes based on technique that I wanted to learn – especially loose and painterly styles.  I have been so closed up lately that I wanted to free myself from the choke hold that my life had on me.

Good luck with that

I started the first class and found I was immediately stuck and uninspired.  The paintbrush felt foreign in my hand and I created mud when I mixed colors.  I wanted to get up and walk out but I pushed through it and by the end of the day I was feeling worse than when I started.  Maybe I just wasn’t ready.

The next morning, I considered packing up, skipping the rest of the Expo and driving home. I decided to give one more class a try . . .

Enter Bob #1

Bob Burridge started his morning class by telling everyone to take everything off of their tables.  Get rid of the cups of paintbrushes, the totes full of art supplies and anything else that would only get in the way of expressing ourselves freely and with abandon. My heart raced a tiny bit.

Paint was squirted directly onto our plastic-covered tables and we were given heavy watercolor paper.  We were allowed one fat brush and a paper towel or two.  And our fingers. That’s it.

I instantly loved Bob #1

There is no way to accurately describe his giant personality except to encourage you to go to his website HERE and check out his FREE weekly Bob Blasts and sign up for his newsletter.  I don’t make recommendations about other artists and classes lightly, but in my search for professional instruction – this was the closest I had come to being expressive in the way I wanted to be.  He made me recognize that Art was FUN and it was okay to HAVE fun.  Hours later, I realized that I thought about nothing else except creating art.  I forgot who I was and how I felt for FOUR HOURS. I didn’t care about a single piece I created or how good or bad it was.  I was so lost in the process that the final outcome had no importance and I realized that the beauty is in the creation.

I changed my schedule around the next day to take a second class from Bob.  His enthusiasm was contagious and I felt walls that had been built around me begin to crumble.  Whatever was happening, I wanted more of it! Hours and hours of creating and at the end of the session, a guy walked into the class and Bob #1 interrupted everyone and said, “hey guys, I’m teaching in Mexico in a few months . . .

Enter Bob #2

Bob #2  (also know as Bob Masla) proceeded to tell us about a very special place called ‘Casa de los Artistas‘” and the retreats he hosts in Mexico for artists.  They had me at Artista.  I signed up at that moment {and then quietly freaked out!}

[to be continued . . .]