I Dreamed A Dream & It Didn't Work Out...
...but I wouldn't be where I am today if it had!
Did you always dream of being an artist? I didn’t. A typical pony-mad girl, I had visions of galloping around the cross-country course at the Badminton Horse Trials - the pinnacle of the eventing world…
As teenagers, my sister and I were lucky enough to have our own ponies…
…and, after leaving school, I qualified as a riding instructor. But life didn’t turn out as I envisaged. Notoriously underpaid, (we were supposed to do the job for the love of horses), and finding myself unable to gain a position that paid a living wage, I returned home. A temporary office job became permanent, I met my husband…and the rest is history.
And yet… despite all the wonderful things, there was part of me that felt a failure. Yes, I was a wife, mother, daughter, sister, employee - but who was I? What did I do? The one dream I had had, I failed at.
So, where does art enter the frame? 2008 to be precise. I signed up for life drawing classes. The enjoyment I derived, immersing myself for two hours each week, ignited the flames of another dream; could I take this further? Despite my ‘inner critic’ whispering that my track record on fulfilling dreams wasn’t great, I completed an Art Foundation course. The next step, university; a degree. Still, that inner voice niggled away.
2010 saw me arrive, full of trepidation at Loughborough University, ready to begin a BA (Honours) Fine Art degree. I was the oldest in my cohort. I’ll be honest; that first year I was like a rabbit in the headlights. The confidence and knowledge my fellow students exhibited overwhelmed me; I crawled into my shell. Receiving my end of year results, I cried. I barely scraped a pass. What was I doing here? I didn’t belong here; had I forgotten I was a failure?
It’s was at this point, I owed my husband, and Dawn, one of my tutors, a debt of gratitude; without their advice, counsel and belief in me, I would’ve given up, thus confirming, again, that I was a failure.
However, I’m stubborn. If I was going to fail, I was going to be a ‘stubborn failure’, so I returned for year two. I began to find my feet; my grades improved. I didn’t cry. By the third year, I finally felt as if I belonged. Clarity of vision enabled me to pull my final degree show and dissertation together. BUT, even though my work received lots of praise, I still didn’t allow myself to dream.
Results day arrived; apprehensively I clicked the button…
…and, it felt as if all the air had been sucked out of me; I almost fell off my chair. First Class!! I read the report, almost uncomprehendingly:
What had begun in a wave of self-doubt and tears, had reached its zenith; a first class honours degree. I hadn’t failed. I wasn’t a failure.
Graduation Day was blisteringly hot. Sweltering. I didn’t care. Relief, jubilation; it all swept over me in a day/daze of celebration.
I had decided to do something. I had set my mind on it. Tenacity, stubbornness, call it what you will, had seen me complete the task. I had succeeded.
My final piece went on to be exhibited in two further places; Cromford Mill, Derbyshire, and the Charnwood Museum in Loughborough.
All very nice I hear you say, but what’s this got to do with you? On the surface, probably not much - but thanks for reading this far. However…
So often have I said, ‘I can’t do this.’ So often, I didn’t think I’d finish my degree. So often, have I heard people say, ‘I will never be able to paint/draw/create etc’.
I feel as if I’m on the cusp of something new with my art. I’m exploring, experimenting; not all of it successful. But, just at the point I think, ‘Oh, give up, go back to what you know you can do’…that little voice says, ‘No; look what you can achieve if you just keep going.’
“Life is 10% what happens to you, and 90% how you react to it.” Charles Swindoll
Now, I’m not saying it’s easy. I’m definitely not the most talented of artists. But, with a little tenacity, even the most unassuming of people can achieve extraordinary things.
And now, when that inner critic starts to talk a little louder, to niggle away at my confidence, do you know what I do? I re-read that uni report; remind myself of my capabilities. I remember how painting makes me feel. I look at all the work I’ve created and sold. I read all the lovely feedback. And then I carry on.
‘If I just keep putting one foot in front of the other, it stands to reason that I’m going to get there.’ Rachel Joyce
Spring is definitely ‘getting there’- despite some recent dreadful weather. Flowers abound. On my walks, daffodils nod their heads. Hedgerows, for so long just a tangle of spindly fingers, are dotted with clusters of frothy blossom. Birdsong becomes more noticeable; incessant chattering, insistent calls… And yet, despite the changing season, vestiges of last year remain, and are beautiful in their decay…
“A dead hydrangea is as intricate and lovely as one in bloom.” Toni Morrison
Looking at the beautiful, papery petals of the hydrangea, green shoots sprouting along its stems, I reflect. How, even when it appears that things, be that blooms, or dreams, have died, out of the ashes, new buds, new aspirations can flourish…
Flowers have definitely been blooming in my studio this week; inspired again by Janette Phillips’ course, Deconstructed Florals. Here’s a snippet of me attempting one of the exercises. I should, at this juncture, say that, after watching Janette’s brushes dance across the paper, I get very cross with myself that I don’t have that same freedom. Some of the brushstrokes aren’t intuitive…yet; I find myself really having to think and feel my way, which of course, inhibits my expressiveness. BUT, I know that, if I want to move forward, to develop my own take on this subject, I have to persist, to keep going…and eventually, I will find my way!
And the following exercise, which is one I enjoy doing, is to pinpoint what it is exactly that I like, what draws me to a particular section…and then I crop and pop into a sketchbook…for future reference, for ideas…to keep me going…
And even if I didn’t fulfil my original dream, the lessons I learned along the way, are helping me succeed in this dream. I can’t tell you the amount of times I fell off, landing in an undignified heap, watching as my pony galloped away across the fields… What did I do? I got up, dusted myself down, caught the tearaway…eventually, climbed right back on…and kept trying…
Until next time,
Evening Carolyn, thanks for sharing your background before becoming an artist and your difficulties with confidence. Love to see what you've already done with the "deconstructed florals" course. Really interesting. I keep the idea of framing and cutting out interesting parts (I like to do that as well; I do that for making postcards) and putting them in a sketchbook. Enjoy the week! Catherine x
First of all Carolyn well done, that's a massive achievement. Your love of horse-riding has reminded me of my friend Sylvia who longed to learn (but not me). We were at junior school and together we'd catch a bus, stay on to the end of its run which took us out of the town to the countryside and a stables. We'd climb a wall and watch girls having riding lessons. This was Sylvia's high spot of the week. She never had any lessons but accepted it. There's a lesson there I think.
Carol