Someone once said, “Cut off your ear and you’re a kook. Paint a picture of yourself with your ear cut off and you’re an artist. Go figure.”

Totally out of my comfort zone, I started to take art classes when I moved into Hacienda at the Canyon two years ago. My first art teacher said, “Everyone is an artist.” Of course she said that before seeing any of my creations.  What I lacked in talent, I excelled in enthusiasm, and for my first endeavor I enjoyed the assignment—painting rocks.  I now have a basket of my colorful painted rocks under a glass table in my office. My favorite is titled, “Rock Band.” All of my rocks are still life drawings unless I throw one off the balcony.

With another teacher, I pursued pencil sketching and then watercolors. I found out that I prefer sketching humans rather than painting landscapes, because all of my landscapes suffer from climate change.  However, I take comfort from Andy Warhol who said, “Art is what you can get away with.”  I’ll toast a can of tomato soup to his memory.

For my favorite class project, the rock teacher put a large canvas on the floor, and we all lined up to create a copy of a Jackson  Pollock abstract painting. We used his “drip technique” pouring and splashing and dripping liquid paint on the canvas. Happily, it turned out quite well, but I doubt it resembled his painting, “Convergence” (1952) because  there didn’t seem to be a single point anywhere. However, although it looked very Pollocky I don’t think it will ever sell for $18,000,000.00 or even $18.00. Pablo Picasso said, “The world doesn’t make sense, so why should I paint pictures that do?” Makes sense to me!

One of my favorite classes was the imaginative assembly of glass art. I designed so many of these suckers that when someone said, “Esther, I really like that piece.” I’d say, “It’s yours!” Now I can visit my glass masterpieces when I visit my friends and let them enjoy the clutter.

Poor Vincent van Gogh put his heart and soul into his paintings and lost his mind in the process. Not to worry! I plan to enjoy my paintings, but won’t go nuts over them.  I’m just going to make art and let someone else decide whether it’s good or not. Right now, I am learning a lot about oil painting in an oil Master Class where we copy a famous portrait of our choice. I am learning about layering paint on my blue jeans and some on the canvas.

Then there’s clay. What a good way to play with dirt!  First I made a basket with a critter sitting inside of it that looks like a dog with a cat’s body. I think the dog wants to jump out but the cat won’t let him.  My latest endeavor is a man’s head with a snake headdress. When finished he may decorate the toilet tank in my guest bathroom, but only if I am flushed with success.

Clay is rather messy, so I shower after each class. One morning I woke up and discovered a tiny lump of clay on my forehead.  It is now somewhere in my bed. Ah, the life of an artist.

The art gallery in my apartment is spread out. Sketches and paintings are hanging on the inside of my closet doors, and jumping about when I wash sheets in the laundry room. Only I am allowed to view the exhibit, because—after all— it is a very private showing.

Esther Blumenfeld