December 23, 2024
Greetings from the artist,
When I was a little boy, an era that lasted far longer than the years normally allotted, my Christmas list for Santa was fairly simple; Matchbox cars, GI Joe stuff, comic books. Maybe a ball of some kind. Occasionally I would aim higher; bicycle, BB gun, rocket pack.
Naturally my parents’ list looked different. Socks, underwear, pajamas, some other fundamentals that I have no memory of. Santa still came through with the Matchbox cars and other little boy dreams, although I am still holding out for the rocket pack. This could be the year.
One Christmas morning, when I was maybe eight or nine, I unwrapped a large package that I was sure would be an official Matchbox Carrying Case. I could already imagine the look of envy on the faces of my friends as I strolled up with my entire car collection all in one convenient, brightly colored plastic suitcase. But no.
It turned out to be the John Gnagy Learn to Draw set.
The box was emblazoned with the global endorsement, “Seen on TV”, which even though I respected, I may have felt a tinge of cynicism. I didn’t remember seeing it on TV. I may have expressed my disappointment, perhaps one of my classic Smith stares of disbelief.
After some gentle encouragement from my parents, which may have included mild threats and no small dose of Catholic guilt, (“There are plenty of hungry children in India who would probably LOVE to have an art lesson.”) I opened the box and explored the world of Gnagy.
Included inside were pencils, a ‘stump’ for shading, and the most exotic, some pieces of charcoal. There was an eraser and some kind of sanding block. Also inside was a 64 page art instruction course. Was I getting HOMEWORK for Christmas?
It may have been a few days, perhaps after the magic of my new Matchbox cars faded, but at some point I began looking at the pictures in the 64 page book, and tentatively trying the charcoal bits and fancy pencils. I tried sketching the example of a farmhouse surrounded by blanket of snow. I shaded in the shadows from the bare trees, dotted the white paper with the pencil footprints.
It didn’t resemble the sample in the book, but it was a beginning. Somehow in the weeks to come I tried again and again to find the necessary technique, without actually reading the text in the instruction course. I bumbled along, drawing barns and stick people and waves on a lake, until I got bored with the process and went back to the routine of all little boys. You know, fun stuff.
Some months later there was an afternoon when I was staying with my grandparents, haven been given strict instructions by my parents to ‘behave’ and to ensure that, I was given my Jon Gnagy Learn to Draw set, which was predicted to keep me occupied without the likelihood of breaking any of my grandmother’s things.
I don’t remember what I drew, but my grandmother was thrilled with it. She couldn’t say enough about how talented I was, and how maybe I would be an artist when I grew up. Naturally this delighted me, and I redoubled my drawing efforts that afternoon.
Long after the paper was used up and the pencils lost, the charcoal broken, I kept the Jon Gnagy instruction booklet. Even as an adult, every once in a while, I’d take it out and try sketching something. My ability never improved from my little boy level of proficiency, but it was still a small pleasure. Sometimes I would look for things in my neighborhood that I could draw, just to add a little variety to what Jon Gnagy offered.
The booklet and the sketches are all dust now. I haven’t thought about them in decades, really. But recently my wife and daughter took a watercolor class together, and it reminded me. They both said that the day after the class, a foggy winter morning, they were out in the world looking at the trees in the mist, wondering how they would paint the scene. They were looking more closely at the branches of the pines in the gray clouds, the way the world vanished beyond a few hundred yards. As artists, they were noticing beauty.
This came to me as I was working on an idea for a storytelling event. I realized that as a writer I had become more aware, and more intentional, about seeking the details of the world around me. I listened to people differently, I noticed more closely, because I was always collecting ideas to write with, to tell stories about, to create with. I’m not using people, or exploiting the world, I am living out what was intended for me all along, no matter what might do with what I witness.
I can’t directly connect the nascent inspiration from Jon Gnagy to what I see as my creative process now, but I can feel the influence. I might not ever have given it a chance, except that my parents knew something I didn’t.
When you are a storyteller, a writer, a poet, an artist, a singer, it becomes your place to absorb the world around you, not just so you have material, but because that’s where the beauty is, that’s the source of what you do. It takes practice, it takes work, and most importantly, it takes beginning.
Little boys cannot always be trusted to say what they want, because they don’t always know. Left to their own devices, they would spend their whole lives playing Matchbox with their best friend and eating Cap’n Crunch cereal. Sometimes, when we choose a gift for the important people in our lives, it helps to look over the horizon into the life that waits, and see what might be needed. It’s a hard skill, which you can learn by ordering the Learn to Parent Kit. As seen on TV.
Hope this finds you giving inspiration,
David
Copyright © 2024 David Smith
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