On Painting: Talent Is A Pursued Interest

Firstly, it would be a total lie to say I signed up for art classes with the intention of becoming an artist. Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, that goal— or deeply buried dream— felt millions of miles away my entire life, nearly impossible, to the point that my brain was like: “How could that even be?” “You can’t even begin.”

I was 29, at the end of more than a decade of a YouTube career, and feeling burnt out (though more fulfilled) in my new career as a life coach. At my wits’ end, I was about to throw in the towel and enter the corporate world (!!!), despite that being completely misaligned with my ethos.

However, as life would have it, six months into interviewing rigorously, though a cataclysmic event, I was suddenly forced to let go of: a retail job (my only source of mental stability & routine at the time), my best friend of seven years, and my beloved therapist of four. Due to the traumatic nature of all this, I lost my period for three months. But I was also left with some serious questions:

If today were to end forever, what would you want to do?

To regulate, I went to yoga that morning and during savasana, I saw a vision of me drawing what I thought were: comic books. They were colorful images of lived experiences, similar to my favorite 90s cartoon Hey Arnold! but more detailed. In a That’s So Raven! moment, I tried to make sense of the future: ‘Oh maybe I’m drawing comics to help with my life coaching?’ I’d always wanted to learn how to draw, too, so it sounded like fun.

I immediately went home, Googled “drawing classes for adults near me” and signed up for classes starting in two weeks.

Looking back, there was a lot of divine timing and redirection at play in my life during that time. For example, when I would go to sign up for more classes the following quarter, I’d have to set up a timer because slots, only about 10-13, normally get taken within hours of enrollment day. So, how serendipitous (and freakin’ weird) was it, then, that I just happened to seamlessly sign up for Drawing 101 the day of enrollment, that day after yoga?

A gorgeous synchronicity.

I was completely on the wrong path—not for me— but feeling lost and hopeless, I was relying solely on logic, as we’re often told to do in the matrix. And pure logic, my friend, is not the pathway toward dreams. (It’s a helpful tool.)

Now, whether you believe in spirituality or not, I do believe your dreams were placed in your heart for a reason. For example, I have absolutely no aspirations, despite being an extreme fanatic of music, to be a singer-songwriter. In fact, I took some singing lessons with a friend last year to better inform my guitar playing, and guess what? That dream sure ain’t mine, haha. Similarly, I have no aspirations to be the world’s best football player!

What I’m trying to say is: there is a reason you dream and long for what you do. It is not by accident. Our job is to quiet down… and listen, closely.

And more than that— there was a time when the Beatles didn’t know how to play guitar, or when Picasso didn’t even know how to hold a paintbrush. They began, because it was placed in their hearts.

The story is important, because if we get too lofty with our dreams, the pressure of it all can stop us from ever even trying. “Why bother?” shouts the rudest, most annoying voice, ever.

If I had signed up for art classes thinking I had to become the best painter at 29, I wouldn’t have— ever.

Instead, do it because it’s fun. Because no one’s watching. Because maybe no one ever will. That’s the point. We do this because we love it, not for validation.

Let it be fun.
Let it be free.
Let it be fluid.
Don’t think.
Just do.

Just begin. Again and again.

As I’ve gotten more skilled at painting and my dreams have grown bigger (to exhibit in a museum), sometimes that icky noise of “BE GOOD! BE GREAT!” comes buzzing in, so, taped on my wall, I have written to remind myself—like at the beginning of this journey: “You’ve waited a thousand lifetimes to paint!!! You’re finally here.”

By the way,* those images weren’t “comic books.” It was actually the future style of my paintings.

Ok, for the practical portion: I signed up for Drawing 101 at the Armory Arts Center in Pasadena. It was a 10-week course for around $350. Once that ended, I enrolled again into Painting 101 for $400 for another 10 weeks. And then another 10-week course of Live Model Drawing for around $600.

After that, I YouTubed everything. I watched videos morning, afternoon, and night. Right as I woke up, before I went to sleep. And I drew slowly each day on my own. With breaks in between when I got frustrated or tired (often!) But even when I was sick, I was drawing and painting.

To be honest with you, I didn’t learn too much from those classes, it was just great to be in a school environment again. I loved being in community with others, after being solo for soooo long (pandemic + the nature of being a content creator) and enjoyed having a dedicated time and place to work for hours. I would say even taking classes at a local community college would be a great starting place. I joined a writing club too at the beginning of starting this newsletter. But once I got going, I knew that I could do it alone.

The lovely part of it all was: Because no one was watching and no one cared, everything was purely motivated by my love and passion for it. The best part about entering those art classes was that that spark that had gone dull from 10+ years on YouTube, came back full force.

I felt it the moment I walked through the doors of the Armory Arts Center.

I was so completely lit up by the practice of art. I remembered what it felt like to be alive again.

I feel like Spirit, Source, the Universe, whoever!!!!!, knew they would only get me to sign up for art classes if it had something to do with advancing my career… Little ol’ achievement-focused (aka traumatized as hell) me would have never done it, otherwise.

But maybe YOU, reading this newsletter, don’t have to have a complete life meltdown to figure out what your heart is calling you to do. I thought 29 was too old to begin painting or any form of art, but truthfully, until the day of our last breath, you are always right on time. Early, even.

And don’t let the silly notion of God-given “talent” impede you, either. Talent is pursued interest. It’s not about how good you are, but about how good you want to be.

And you best believe, when my money comes back, there are so many unlived childhood dreams I’m eager to carve out (becoming a bad ass surfer is one of them). Just you wait.

So remember: it doesn’t matter when you start— the only thing that matters is that you do.