art class

I don't know what brought back this memory. In elementary school, I loved going to art class. It was a large room. I don't recall it having windows. I remember there were big tables covered in paper and arranged in a big U. In the back were shelves where supplies and in-progress projects were stored.

I remember a little girl getting mad at me because I noticed that she drew eyes as half circles. I thought that was a neat idea so I copied it.

I remember transforming a dish soap bottle into a woman. I must have made the head out of paper maché.

Classes were weekly. I don't remember going to them after the 3rd grade for some reason. We did art activities in our regular classrooms, I guess. I didn't take another art class until senior year of high school. I wish I hadn't waited so long.

And now I pay for the occasional art class. In a way, art class is all about finding new things to bring into practice. Practice is something I wish I did daily, but there is also work. Sadly I've never been that good at balance. Balance is never static anyway. Watch a tightrope walker and note how she never stops stops moving.

Just keep doing. Keep moving. Never retire.