Why didn't you major in art?

I've gotten this question a few times lately, so I thought I'd take a few minutes to think the answer through. Why didn't I go into art?

I have always loved art, so I guess it would have made sense if I had gotten an art degree. My dad used to bring home stacks of paper from the recycling bin at his workplace every day, and my older sister Jackie and I would fill the backs of the perforated-edged computer paper with our drawings. 

A drawing I did of my mom's rocking chair at age 6

Our depiction of my dad's workplace (he worked at a refinery). I'm on the left :)

There was a boy in my school class whose mom ran art camps for kids. I participated in quite a few of them, and even won 2nd place for one of my paintings :)

Me, 8 years old

painted around age 7-8

In junior high, my interest in art grew. I took an art class every quarter/semester at school if I could fit it in, and continued to take art classes in high school.

Stippling project from a high school art class.

Self portrait from high school/college--I kinda did both simultaneously for a bit (that's me in my prom dress, ha!)

When I was 16, my mom decided to enroll me in a figure drawing class at the college (amid much booing and hissing from the ladies at church, ha ;). I was terrified by the idea of nude models, but I got over it pretty quickly and really enjoyed drawing from life (except when the yogi man would model in his special poses--that was a little disturbing, lol ;).

From my first semester of figure drawing

The drawing instructor was a very good teacher. His name was John Pollock, and I learned so much from that semester of figure drawing. Looking at my drawings, he suggested I look into a school that would teach technique, because, as he said, technique is not taught in universities right now--and there aren't many places where it IS taught. I really had no idea what he was talking about ("technique?"). He mentioned maybe the Art Institute of Chicago? I don't know. I can't remember. All I knew was that moving to Chicago at age 16 wasn't an option (not that I wanted to anyway). After all, I wanted to be able to bring home a paycheck after four years of college! 

I kept taking classes at the college (they had a high school connection program), and ended up doing a few semesters of watercolor with John Pollock, which I really enjoyed. Watercolor taught me to be quick, decisive, and fresh in my approach, and Mr. Pollock always helped point out ways to improve my perception as an artist (like "don't be afraid to go dark." that one still echoes in my head from time to time). I also took a few semesters of painting (acrylic), which I thoroughly enjoyed, but which really didn't teach me to be a better painter except for the time just playing around with paint (until my last semester when Neil Jussila had me work on some color exercises and master copies). For the most part, the painting classes I took provided a model, and we painted (but no instruction on HOW. Oh, and no oils because the ventilation wasn't good enough. The first time I dipped my brush in oil paint during a community ed class through UVU, it was a revelation: "so this is what I've been trying to get my acrylics to do!"). 

An example of a watercolor from college

When I was 18, I took a trip to Chicago with my sister to check out DePaul University (she's an accomplished pianist and was interested in the music program), and we went to the Art Institute of Chicago museum. I was spellbound. We spent the whole day wandering those galleries--from opening til close. I can still remember the awe I felt being in the presence of all those beautiful paintings--I stared at them for hours (Jackie was a good sport!). I felt like they were speaking to me, in a language I could understand, but that I could never hope to speak myself. I felt resigned that I could never capture the beauty to which I aspired, but that it was okay to still enjoy creating what I could.

One of my favorite paintings from my college years

When all was said and done and it was time to graduate, I had as many upper division credits in art as I did in psychology (the emphasis of my liberal studies degree). And yet, at the end of all that, I still felt as though none of my art was any good. And that left me thinking that I just didn't have what it takes to be a good artist. 

I also got the feeling that what I wanted to do as an artist would not be accepted--that it would be called kitschy, unoriginal, etc. What was particularly valued in the art culture of the university atmosphere (especially in certain circles) seemed to be shock value. And I'm not a shocking kind of artist. I didn't want to decoupage wadded up toilet paper onto a canvas and glob blood-red paint all over it to make a statement. It's just not what I have to say. For me, artwork is about elevating existence to a higher plane of being--and I couldn't bring myself to do otherwise, nor could I figure out how to do what exactly I desired to do with my art. If I was supposed to say something profound with my art, I just didn't have a lot to say yet.

So I decided to go into a helping profession--speech therapy. I went off to get a master's degree, and I haven't regretted that decision. It has helped me in so many ways, and I think it was definitely the right choice for me. Grad school was followed by marriage, career, and a couple of beautiful babies, and my artistic endeavors went on hiatus for a little while. 

But there came a point in my life (perhaps I will share more on that later, but not right now), when I realized that I couldn't live without art. Once I came to that realization, it didn't matter anymore if other people approved of what I was doing, or even if what I did was any good. All that mattered was that I do it. Which is why I've made a commitment to try to do some form of art every day, even if it's just a quick little sketch of a family member. 

So there you go. Not exactly a clear-cut answer, but what I believe to be some of the reasons I decided not to get a degree in art.