Growing up, I started taking piano lessons when my family and I lived in Washington State and I was three and a half years old. A decade passed before I finally “quit,” at least the lessons, that is. There’s still a baby grand piano in my parents’ living room, and I still play it on occasion. I vividly remember asking my mom if I could stop taking lessons; I was about to enter sixth grade and said I wanted a fresh start, that I had all the fun I could stand. She gave me a hug and was in agreement, under one condition:
“Find something else to try.”
So, I enrolled in my first art class, independent from the mandatory ones we had to participate in at elementary school. I sat in the front of the class and refused to use anything but graphite for the entire year; all of my pieces were in black and white, even my Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo submission, which was an exception my teacher made specifically for me. I despised color.
This was the root of my love-hate relationship with art as I entered the remainder of my public school career. My subsequent teachers were less accommodating to my resistance to both color and to using any medium other than graphite pencils and sticks. This constant conflict began to take its toll on my “fun meter” when I finished my sophomore year of high school, and I proceeded to drop the elective for the following year. Entering my senior year, however, I needed one more class to complete my schedule, and “Art II: Painting” was one of the only viable options to both the rest of my schedule’s setup and to my personal interests. Reluctantly, I enrolled.
It started off okay. I was bitter going in, so that lack of enthusiasm set me off on the wrong foot from the get-go. We used watercolors, acrylics, and oil paints as mediums, and to my surprise, I didn’t loathe working with any of them. Painting certainly wasn’t something I had ambitions of turning into a career, but I was happy to had finally rekindled my love for the fine arts and pick up a new hobby.
These days, as an agriculture major, I don’t find myself sitting in front of an easel, paintbrush in hand, for college credit. Rather, I use the activity as a way to detox and de-stress from a long week or stressful period of time. The idea of being able to paint my axe handle was even one of the selling points that drew me in to choosing SFA as my undergraduate college, and it’s also been an outlet for me to make friends and interact with fellow Lumberjacks while on campus. Through working as a Jack Walker, my axe handle is complimented frequently during my tours from students passing by and my tour families, and I’ve had the opportunity to pain some of my co-workers’ axe handles as well. Painting has been an outlet for me to not only express myself but to pass the time and escape from the hustle and bustle of college life.