A few days ago, I went to Spirited Art with some lady friends from my neighborhood. It’s a wine + design type deal, and while I was super nervous to try it out [I have no artistic ability what.so.ever] I was intrigued.
The instructor was a super cute girl who obviously had more talent than everyone in the room combined, but she was so genuinely encouraging to everyone. Like, she almost made me believe I was doing a good job. [Key word: almost] She was one of those beautiful artsy people who wears no makeup and has her hair tied back in a messy bun. Someone who is gorgeous because she is oozing passion.
I fumbled my way through class, often frustrated with myself because my painting looked nothing like the instructor’s painting. And, because it was difficult. Ugh – my love/hate relationship with difficult things. There were moments I wanted to quit, because, let’s be honest – I’m a shitty painter.
But, quitting is for losers.
At the end of the class, most participants had dispersed and my group was hanging around finishing up and taking pictures. The instructor and her assistant were asking us where in our homes we would hang our paintings. I practically snorted.
I think our crawl space is in need of some decoration.
I went on to say that while this was a fun class, painting is obviously not something I’d consider a talent of mine. Then the assistant responded in a way that’s resonated with me for days.
You know, the owner here has unbelievable technique, and it’s almost impossible for me to recreate her delicate, fine lines. If I compared my paintings to hers, I’d always come up short. I’m a bold painter who likes thick lines and defined edges. We all just need to learn to embrace our own strokes.
That totally rung true to me for some reason. Yeah, we all need embrace our own strokes. What works for me, really might not work for you – and vice versa – but the beauty in life is in embracing our own strokes.
Whether it’s going after your dream job or finding a new hobby, getting married at 23 or staying single until you’re 53, being a size 4 or a size 14 — as long as you’re embracing your own strokes, who cares what everyone else is doing?
You do you. I’ll do me. And no comparison shall there be.