Art was always my escape. In Harry Potter terms, it was my portkey. Whether I was celebrating a student council win or in need of venting, art was my go-to pastime. It teleported me into a world where my sole concern was painting within the lines and ensuring I did not dip a dirty paintbrush into the flawless white paint. Since I wasn't the most athletic kid, art was my 'thing.’ As I grew older, so did the cobwebs around my paintings that sulked in the attic, making me contemplate what my new 'thing' was.
Consequently I was perplexed when the Spanish teacher instructed me to prepare a Cubist painting for Spain day .
‘Cubism’ was new to me. My first guess: something to do with the Cuban Missile Crisis. Maybe a portrait of that Castro guy?
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Bad idea; the paint refused to adhere to the canvas. I muttered the words 'oil paint' under my breath repeatedly, hoping to crack the code. Aha! Oil paint. Surely its inventors did not intend for oil paint to be mixed with cooking oil but beggars can't be choosers, right? Soon enough next to my palette was a teacup filled to the brim with fine virgin Olive Oil.
On the living room television a movie, opportunely set in Spain, depicted a woman clad in a scarlet dress, stomping her feet and clapping as she performed the flamenco. “How felicitous,” I thought as I began sketching her with the eyeliner.
Following infinite strokes of oil paint and using the life out of Maybelline's best, not to mention an unfortunate spillage of red paint over the canvas, what resulted was a blend of art, innovation and satisfaction.
The painting may have been auctioned for a nominal sum of money but to me it was priceless. The 16x8 inches of fabric gave me a different set of eyes to view 'ordinary' things with. It taught me to not view things in a superficial manner and instead be open to new experiences; one never knows what one may discover.The world is full of limitless opportunities, we just have to let them