Staghorn fern

Shapes & Shadows: If you bring one of these home, you probably have to paint your wall orange for best effect.

As I was leaving the grocery this staghorn fern caught my eye. It reminded me of my first painting in a watercolor class.

I had taken a few drawing classes. In this pedagogical environment the next step was to learn to draw with pastels. I don't like the dryness and dust of pastels and at the beginning of the next term I asked to do watercolor instead. (It was like a one-room schoolhouse where different levels of expertise worked from the same still life setup in different media.)

The following week my excellent teacher had disappeared (I think he was in the military reserves) and had been replaced by a woman whose approach to art was stifling. I observed with dismay that the drawings of the half-dozen beginning students turned out identical—she had managed to squelch every ounce of originality in them.

Our first major project was about negative space, and the still life consisted of philodendron plants. I drew one large leaf and began to paint it. When the teacher came around giving feedback she looked at my leaf with pursed lips and said, "Sometimes the best thing to do is just tear up your painting and start over."

I brought my painting home. I worked on it for weeks in ignorance, determination, and love, layering the paint in a way that was far from the way watercolors are 'supposed' to be worked. I still have the painting. And—triumphantly—I never went back to the class. This act of defiance was a major step in my life as an artist.