“If you see three rabbits in the morning you’ll have good luck throughout the day.”

                                                                                                                                 – American Folklore

 

Once, a very long time ago – back in the 1900s! – I decided to paint a picture of my friend Suzanne’s house with her pony, White Cloud, standing in the front yard. I had never painted before and had no idea what I was doing but that had never stopped me before. I hardly ever feel I know what I’m doing whether it’s a new thing or not. Most of my life has been lived “off the cuff” as they say – or use to say back in the 1900s. What do we say now? Winging it? That also describes how I live my life. Is there a better way? Please don’t tell me. I’m happily living the third chapter of my life in relative peace and harmony so I don’t want to know. Anyway, the point is that I once wanted to learn to paint and I went in search of books about it.  I had decided to learn something new.

Learning before the internet existed as it does today was different. With the internet it’s easy to find online information and classes that give us the opportunity to learn, grow and stay connected  – in the comfort of our own homes, no less. I love it. Before the online world was created one went to classes in person and learned from books. Once, I took a drawing class at the Torpedo Factory in Alexandria, Virginia. On the first day we drew, with charcoal on large sketchpads, a knotted sheet that was hanging from the ceiling.

“The reason I chose the knotted sheet is because everyone is successful at drawing this,” the instructor said as she walked around the room. Then she passed by me and amended that statement. “Well, almost everyone.”

I think every creative has a story like this. Truthfully, it didn’t crush me but it did have an effect. On the one hand, it made me laugh – out loud and on the spot. I never considered myself a natural at drawing and I was there to learn. So what if it didn’t measure up right away? That only meant I could improve with practice. On the other hand, it made me acutely aware that drawing was a skill I had to work hard at and I began examining every line I drew with the eye of an eagle. How many times did I draw and erase the lines of Suzanne’s house? Many. How many times did I draw and redraw White Cloud? Over and over. In the end, the painting was put away unfinished because I didn’t think I was getting it right.

When I look at Three Rabbits now I think it has possibilities. This is because I am seeing it differently. Instead of looking at White Cloud and wondering if I drew his markings right, I think just about White Cloud and how much Suzanne loved him. I think about how, after school, Suzanne and I would grab a couple of apples, a box of Chicken in a Biskit crackers and go riding off into the woods. She would be on White Cloud and I would ride her other horse, Misty. I remember the time she and White Cloud jumped a log on the trail and Misty and I followed. When Suzanne turned in her saddle to look behind she saw Misty, alone and patiently standing on the trail. Misty was alone because I had fallen off and silently rolled into a ditch. After she found me we couldn’t stop laughing as we searched through the leaves for my glasses. Good times.

When I look at the golden field painted behind the house I remember the time Paul, then her boyfriend and later her husband, asked us to help plant cabbage in that field because he was short two workers. We sat behind the tractor and placed seedlings into the machine that turned like a wheel in front of us, planting them into the ground. After a bit we looked up to see that we were placing them upside down so about five acres of little roots were waving at us in the air as we drove away. We thought it hilarious, Paul… not so much. We all had to walk out into the field and plant those rows right side up.

Then I remember when I was sixteen, my mom was in Europe, I had the chicken pox and I called Suzanne crying because I was itchy and had counted 150 pox on my face. Of course I counted! Then I covered up all the mirrors in the house. She came right over, bundled me into her truck and we went for a drive that took us right by this house that would one day be her home. We drove until I stopped crying, we drove until we were laughing again and then she took me back where I got better.

Three Rabbits in the Morning was never about portraying White Cloud perfectly. It was always about friendship but I didn’t recognize that then. It was easy to get lost in the weeds of perfection, completely missing the point of what I was trying to say. Make no mistake, I know technique is important because it gives us the tools to express ourselves. I have taken many classes and workshops since that first one at the Torpedo Factory and I will continue to do so. The difference is that I approach those classes differently.

I never want to stop learning. However, now I never begin anything thinking, “I want to create the perfect horse,” let alone house, flower or knotted sheet. Instead I begin with a thought, however vague, and sometimes with just a color I like. There are times I begin with no thought or favorite color at all, finding the point of the piece midway through and shaping it bit by bit. Will that change one day? Maybe. Someday I may want to move in a different direction because that is part of learning and growing, too. We never want to stop doing that.

Right now Three Rabbits is back on my desk and I’m playing with the lines I drew and colors I painted years ago. I suppose I could leave it in my portfolio and explain it away by saying, “That is my last century work.” It could also disappear in a flurry of Swedish Death Cleaning but I’m not going to either of those things. I want to finish it. I will pull out my pencils and paints, dip the brush in the water and begin again – this time with feeling. Wish me luck – three rabbits worth, please.