It Only Takes One Word

Back in sixth grade I discovered that I had the knack for drawing. 

I was over at one of my best friend's house.  He was working on a diorama of the Civil War and he included a few crude illustrations of Confederate and Union soldiers he had drawn.

I was intrigued and doodled while he completed his project.  I noticed that my drawings were much better than his and so began my fascination with art.

For the rest of the school year I drew in the margins of my notebooks, attempted to draw a few superheroes I saw in my comic books and continued to practice after school dismissed for summer break.

That next year, in Junior High seventh grade, I signed up for an art class.  My teacher was Mrs. Gray.

What a great teacher, she was such a wonderful encouragement.

She knew I loved comic books and wanted to be a comic book artist or cartoonist.  She encouraged my passion and did everything possible to push me in the right direction.

She insisted I study anatomy, perspective, color, line and all of the other elements and principles of design my young mind could comprehend.

She was proud of my work and continually pushed me to try harder.

All that changed when I got in high school.

Ms. Tichenor was my art teacher and while I liked her and enjoyed her class she never liked my cartooning.

She considered herself a ‘fine art’ artist and thought cartooning was sophomoric at best.

Still, I pursued my dream.  I proved to her I could also do fine art.  I contributed to the school’s art magazine, took part in various art projects and attended the statewide art shows when we took field trips.

I remember spending hours drawing a Conan The Barbarian illustration, complete with an elaborate ancient city in the background.  I put my heart and soul into it.

And yet, when it came time to submit artwork for the statewide art competition, Ms. Tichener selected a simple watercolor half-portrait by a fellow student to submit.

I had nothing against the artist but it was obvious that he painted it in only a few minutes.  I was upset to say the least.

I was so upset that when class ended (it was my last class of the day) I stormed out and started to walk home instead of taking the bus.

Not long after I left and was about a half a mile from the school my art teacher pulls up in her car.  She attempted to apologize (pretty half-heartedly).

Strike one: it took me a long time to recover from that blow.

To make matters worse my own family, except my middle brother, never really understood the whole ‘art’ thing.

I never heard anyone in my family offer any encouragement.  Only that I needed to get a real job.  Strike two!

Mom was sick all of her life and it seemed that whenever I started to draw something she always needed me ‘right now!’  Is it any wonder I have a love/hate relationship with art?

Fast forward to college-my art teachers had the same opinion of cartooning as my high school teacher and still I pressed on.  It went so far that I was literally made fun off by one of my art teachers because of my cartooning.  Strike three!

Out of college I managed to get small jobs at print shops, etc.  After I met my wife and we moved to Texas I worked for a publishing company.  I was one of the staff artists.

While I did do cartooning my manager thought comic books were juvenile and ‘tools’ of the devil.  We did not get along.  The man had no imagination.  Neither did his wife.  Strike four!

Two years later my wife and I have moved to Jacksonville, Florida.  We stayed with her sister for about a month until I got a job and we moved out.  Not long afterward we bought a small home.  I worked for an ad agency and was often called on to draw cartoons. 

It was an OK job but I found myself doing the lion’s share of the designing and illustration.  After eight years there my hours were cut and I got a job in the marketing department of a local credit union.

My boss was a royal pain and one of the sneakiest and dishonest people I ever met.  I managed to stick around for another eight years and left before I became his latest victim.

I got a job at Homeside Lending.  It was horrible and the worst decision of my life. ‘Nuff said!

One year later I’m at another credit union as its Vice President of Marketing.  The job would have been fine except the president of the credit union was a good old boy who micromanaged, held onto the purse strings and never knew what he wanted.  It did not end well.

After that I had had enough of marketing and decided to get a teaching job.

Of all of my jobs that is the one I enjoyed the most.  I still couldn’t ignite my passion for drawing but I did set fire to a few of my students’ artistic talents and watched them go on to college and great careers.

That leads me to now.  I am just now starting to draw again-for no other reason because I want to.  No pressure, no deadlines and no one to please.  

I draw when the urge hits me.  For the first time in my life I feel as if I’m dong something for me regardless of what others think.  It sure took long enough!