It’s Fall 1999, I had just started middle school. First class assignment was Japanese Sumi-e art. It entailed using dry black ink called sumi ink, made out of pine sap that has been burned down to carbon. Our class objective was to draw bamboo trees, using fluid motions and lifting the brush just right to create bamboo sections or leaves. At the time it was my first true introduction to creating art. The classroom was abuzz, everyone trying to figure out how much water to add to the solid sumi ink to elicit the dark hue needed. The brush was tapered and stiff but offered flexibility as it gave way to every brush stroke.
The teacher began making her rounds around the class, offering advice and instruction. She then came up my table, and what she asked would forever change my life.
“Are you an artist?” asked the teacher.
“No? Why?” I asked confused.
“The way your hand sways with the brush, it’s like an artist.” she answered back.
Time stood still, my mind processing what she had just said. Me? An artist? But I am only 11, what makes an artist? Am I an artist? Could I be an artist? My brain erupted almost as if a new portal had been opened. Since then I never seized in the creation of art, everywhere I went. That simple sentence changed my entire being. The world became my canvas and I was an artist creatively leaving my mark.
When I had kids, I made sure to instill such love for art in them. When they were toddlers, I would have them close their eyes and scribble random lines and circles on a piece of paper. Then I would rotate the page until we saw an image that resembled something we could go off on. Similar to when you gaze at clouds and find random formations resembling things you might recognize. Both of my kids have since surpassed my ability to create great works of art.
This, all due to one teacher, giving one comment in a class of many students.
The next time you give a compliment, know that it could forever change the course of not just one but many individuals.
|Molecular Rebirth | 
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