I sat in the field, cool wind blowing, tugging at the long strands of grass running along the edge of the creek, their grassy heads swaying to and fro.
I looked up and took in the rolling green hills dotted with black and white Friesian cows. Again putting my pencil to paper, stroke after stroke I tried to emulate on the page the scene in front of me.
It was high school maths class and again the teacher was droning on about another uninteresting equation.
I had my sketch book stuffed secretly down inside my open maths workbook, my pencil etching out another design. I was immersed in drawing a vine, tendril after tendril winding its way up a post, delicate little leaves dotted all along its length.
I hadn't heard the teacher walk up behind me until she reached down and took my sketch book, closing it gently and sitting it in front of me with a cheeky little smile and wink, "you can do that later".
His little eyes were so softly closed and he looked like a peaceful angel. Soft blonde hair wisped onto his forehead and his rosy lips made a perfect tiny pout.
My heart exploded, as I drew this beautiful little being in front of me. My deepest desire at that moment was to capture all that I felt right in front of me on that one sheet of paper with that one pencil. That is the moment I knew in my soul I was an artist.
All these scenes are from memories I have of how I learnt. Over the years I have taken classes and courses and continue to do so, which all add to the skills and knowledge you have as an artist. But for me its the moments on my own, that I've been still and at one with what was in front of me or in my imagination to capture that are the most precious. It's in that space that I've learnt the most, about art and myself.