Beginnings: And random drawings.

When I was 26, I went to college.

That's not the age that people usually go.  But it's the age I went.  I was divorced, and had three children, ages 3 months, 3 years, and 6 years.

I took Art 101, Drawing.  I had always drawn well, and when I was younger, I made little sculptures.  I won art contests in grade school.  I won a prize in an art contest at the state fair,

When I talked to friends about taking the college class, I was warned that this particular teacher was a real asshole, really rigid, rarely gave out anything higher than a B.  Actually, I found him to be stern but quite reasonable, although I had to argue with him to be able to stand up to draw, instead of sitting down.  But when I was done with the class, he gave me an A, asked if he could put my drawings on display, and told me I should take more classes in the art department. I called my mom, Linda, a professional artist, and excitedly told her the news.

Mom took a deep breath.  "Misty.  I've seen the kind of men you date and marry.  You can be an artist, or you can eat.  Pick something you can make a living at."  So I did.  I became a math teacher. I also stopped drawing, somewhere around 1993.

And then I became a psychiatric social worker.  I still wasn't drawing.

Time went by.  The kids grew up.  My mother died. I still didn't draw.

Then, just past my 51st birthday this year, I felt like drawing one day, and then I couldn't stop. So here it is, my journey to become artsy.

Linda, my mom, is gone.  And now I have a lot of questions, but I guess I'll have to figure it out like she did.

So far, I've figured out...don't ever,  ever,  spray fixative in the house. 

 from a photograph taken in Arkansas.  I initially kind of liked it, but the more I look like it, the trestle looks to be enveloped in smoke instead of leaves.  

 From the Rio Grande Nature Center.  I especially like this drawing.  I'm happy with the shading.  

 Morning in the sandia foothills, in Embudo Canyon.  I'm ambivalent.  

 She looks pensive, right? Actually she was watching a guy in a Rogue tee who suddenly and inexplicably dropped and started doing burpees. At a historical site.

 Oregon coast.  This looks a little flat, I think.
 This is poison oak. These are my legs.  I ran 50k through poison oak, which I found out is actually a very pretty plant with red leaves. And now you know the story of why I now hate Oregon.

 A dying poinsettia.

 transparency practice.


 I saw this in a magazine. I had to draw her, curves and all. Patrone says her head is too small.  He might have a point.