I’ve always enjoyed drawing. When kids my age were still discovering shapes, I was drawing whole scenes. First time I realized I was pretty good at sketching was in the first grade. I drew a ninja fighting a T-Rex. It was reminiscent of something from the middle ages. Flat, no perspective, no depth, but you could tell it was a ninja fighting a dinosaur. Funny thing is when you are the best drawer in your grade school class; you become a celebrity of sorts. Kids start to hover over you while you draw your masterpieces. Classmates start to request more dinosaurs, knights fighting dragons, Luke Skywalker, and football players. My fan base consisted of mostly boys.
In second grade I drew my first girl. It was a portrait of an older girl who I had a crush on. She was our neighbor and she was three grades ahead of me. I remember this picture because my conservative teacher caught me drawing Brandy while she was teaching about something. I wasn’t paying her much attention at the time and I got the picture taken away and two X’s near my name on the chalk board. I got the picture back after school along with a long lecture on why I shouldn’t draw in class. Despite the incident I still got respect from my classmates.
My talent for illustration reached its zenith during high school. Despite me burgeoning talent, though, I remember having a dreadful time trying to draw hands. But, I did manage to learn how to draw small circles in the eyes to give the illusion of light reflection. I was proud as a peacock. Being a comic book collector inspired me to start my own comic series. I never finished one but I had a lot of first acts to my name.
In art class, I scoped out my competition with eagle eyes. Art class was extremely competitive but I still had more tricks up my sleeve then the rest of the bunch. Painting was not my thing and I soon bowed out of that circle. I was riding pretty high in those days. My teachers would even give props when they walked by my desk. They didn’t mind that I wasn’t working on their assignments. It was like having diplomatic immunity. But alas, the glory days had to end sometime.
This tenuous run as a burgeoning art-star came to an abrupt halt when my brother’s friend came to visit one day in 1989. He was older than me and was an art major in college. He brought his portfolio and when I saw how good he was, I vowed to give up. He had a tremendous grasp of anatomy and detail. I spiraled into years of trying to emulate his style — which is a cardinal no-no for any artist.
Slowly, as my days in high school waned, I began to grow more and more uninterested in art. I drifted towards photography and when I enrolled in college, I was quick to learn as much about cameras as I could. Though I eventually graduated with a degree in photography, when I crack open the old art portfolio, I’m struck by the promise. It’s a great lesson in self-belief and persistence. If I had a little more professional input when I was in grade and middle school, I think I could have withstood the anxiety of influence I suffered in high school. It only take a small bit of encouragement to keep a dream alive throughout a lifetime.
