There was a time when, in my middle childhood, I had an unquenchable desire to do art. I loved to color, as most children do. Even with the broken crayons that were the rule in our house, I would seek out any opportunity to add my impression of color to a page.
I also always liked to draw, even to the extent of making my own paper dolls, complete with story lines and wardrobes to accompany them. Where this came from was never clear, but there were two rather interesting influences that I can remember. One was the NBC weatherman, Tex Antoine who would, at the end of the weather report, turn the temperature numerals into a cartoon. The whole family watched in wonder every night. The second was another TV artist, Jon Gnagy, who with charcoal would demonstrate how basic shapes could be found in any picture. My Dad and I watched that program. I, after not too much pestering, received a Jon Gnagy “Draw with Me” kit for my birthday.
Jon Gnagy’s kit contained a pad of paper, two charcoal crayons, a wonderful thing called a kneaded eraser and an instruction pamphlet. When I ran out of paper and charcoal, I still had the eraser and, now, a penchant for the real thing – oil paints. The reason for this lust was a full-color Christmas card that fascinated my child’s mind. It depicted a cozy cottage surrounded by fancifully-colored pink and green trees with a glittery waterfall and stream in front. I drew this scene over and over. Charcoal couldn’t do it justice. I had to paint it. So, what did I know about oil paints? Nothing. But persistence pays off and my Santa left a complete oil paint set under the tree that year. Thus, the learning curve began. I became familiar with names like cadmium yellow, aliziran crimson and ultramarine blue. I learned how to use the linseed oil and turpentine that came with the set, the wooden pallet, pallet knife and the little cup that attached to the palette. I painted my picture, my youthful joy of creation, and because I thought it was so beautiful, entered it into the art contest at school.
How excited should you be when you win an honorable mention? The awards for the contest were a premier event at our school. Presented in the evening, you were expected to dress in your best to walk across the stage to receive your award. The whole family would be there – Mom, Dad, my siblings, grandparents and assorted aunts and uncles. I was over-the-moon excited.
Full of herself would be a good phrase to attach to my mind set. Since I was going to be on stage, I decided to experiment surreptitiously with my mother’s makeup. There I was in the bathroom, with my mother’s rouge, trying to embellish the 10-year-old’s face. I put a dab on my right cheek. I looked like a clown. I tried to wash it off. I rubbed gently, but there seemed to be a remaining smudge of red that needed to be removed, not only for beauty’s sake, but to hide the evidence. I rubbed some more. The spot got redder. The more I rubbed, the darker my cheek became until it began to sting with every effort to erase my sin.
I had monopolized the only bathroom in the house for quite some time. There were several siblings at the door, whose pleas had gone unanswered until my mother knocked on the door to ask what was wrong.
By this time I was sobbing. Why couldn’t I remove that rouge from my now bright red cheek. I had ruined my life. Not only would my mother be mad at me, but I probably wouldn’t be allowed to go to the awards night.
Well, my mom wasn’t mad at all. She smiled and explained that my red cheek was the result of my over-industrious use of the wash cloth and that we would still go to the event. She even used some of her “pancake” makeup on my sore red face.
That night I won a box of Jon Gnagy colored pencils. I still have them much in the same fashion that you only use the good dishes on special occasions, I rarely used these precious reminders of my award. They rest in the back of the drawer of my desk. And how many years ago did my competitiveness and ego earn these eight pencils? A lifetime ago.
I long ago gave up the idea that I was an artist. That died with lesson plans and laundry. But those Jon Gnagy pencils are still there and I think I have found a special occasion for their use.
I think that I will use them to embellish a page from “Well Said, The Library Lovers Coloring Book of Quotes” in honor of Library Lovers Month. So now I come full circle to a coloring book. The wheel turns.
