My new school!

With my much anticipated Aunt-money set to arrive any week, I set about looking for the proper painting class to take. I’m a big fan of Community Ed, and Saint Paul’s version has no end of inexpensive art classes, but Aunt-money meant I could go big. University of Minnesota? Maybe not that big. Articulture? Nothing offered for months. Instead, I chose The Art Academy on Snelling, because it was close and because it got good reviews on Yelp and Facebook. I liked the philosophy they espoused on their website:

At the Art Academy we always stress practice over talent. We believe that if students put forth their best efforts during each class their abilities will flourish – unlocking a level of artistic potential that goes well beyond their expectations.

exterior

Granted, that wasn’t a high bar — my expectations were pretty low. But the student work they showed on their website was genuinely impressive, and their student-to-teacher ratio impressively low.  Although there was a lot of cross-over between class descriptions, with no obviously suggested order, I decided on “The Oil Study,” because it spoke specifically about giving students the skills to start a painting, which made more sense than the other beginning oil painting class that talked about skills around finishing a painting. Oddly, though, while other class galleries showed student work in richly-colored palettes, Oil Study paintings were exclusively in shades of grey. Would I only be painting in black and white? What gives?

grey-paintings
Liven up, dudes!

Why now?

Every Christmas, my very generous, very loaded Aunt gives my husband and me a check for $500. For a couple in their middle years (I’m 48) with steady incomes, $500 is not life-changing money, but even my allotted half feels like a chance to be wildly, selfishly impractical in a way that I normally never am. I don’t think of my daughter when I think about how to spend that money; I don’t think about beefing up our meager savings or re-enameling our rusting bathtub. I think about Botox, or an Etsy splurge, or something full price from Anthropologie. I think about that check all year long.

Last November brought the MCAD (Minneapolis College of Art and Design) Art Sale, an uber-popular annual event that I’d never attended. I love decorcarefully filling my home with unique and wabi-sabi things I’d collected through the years – but the word Art sounded expensive. Still, it was free to attend, and our friend Gerry, who worked at the school, assured us that it was student work and therefore cheap. Maybe I could finally find something to replace the Ikea poster in our bedroom.

We went. It was, indeed, cheap – and expensive, low-brow and high-brow and everything in-between. Bad drawings of toilets and perfect little portraits of grandmothers. Photos, and jewelry, and wall-sized paintings of someone’s nipple. I bought two little prints for ten dollars each and came away knowing how to spend this year’s Aunt-money.

I decided to learn to paint.

me
Me, with husband Pete, daughter Olive (look hard!), and Governor Dayton at the Minnesota State Fair. Yeah, we’re buds.