I have an early memory of being taken to the Tate gallery by my mother. I know I was under the age of ten because she died before I reached that age. I must have been impressed by alternative uses of colour in the paintings I saw there that day as later, on returning home, I recall completing a colouring-in session of a disembodied dog’s head in whatever colours took my fancy.
When I proudly presented said item to my parents, they laughed at it.
All these years later and I’m continuing in my efforts to undo the negative impression I received as a so sensitive child from my parents that day. I wonder why my mother took me to the Tate. Their reaction to my colouring suggested they had little time for anything but representational depictions in art. I can only guess, as neither parent survives to tell.
Perhaps I should just get over myself, but I feel that such stumbling blocks on the way to adulthood are significant. The deep seated fear of ridicule has established itself within. This course, or at least my approach to it, needs to be highly experimental. I don’t think I’m achieving this goal right now. I need to ‘play harder’ if I am to produce anything worthy of merit.
Having said this, I feel today is something of an intitial baby step in the right direction.
Maureen Walker's blog: An Artist's Journey 