Well, the panicking is over. Monday, I had to just suck it up. As much as I thought I would be eagerly anticipating it, by the time 12:30 rolled around I was filled with dread. I’ve never in my life had an art class. Never. Never even touched oil paints, except for the one time Dad’s oils got mixed in with my acrylics. I used one by accident, and it was a positively terrible smeared mess. I’ve avoided them ever since, but there was no avoiding it Monday. The day had finally come where I would have to do an oil painting. In fact, I have to do an entire semester of all oils because I’m the genius that decided to get out of my comfort zone and take a painting class so I could say at least I had tried to learn.
So what do I think now? Well, it wasn’t THAT bad. I was having mini-panic attacks the entire time though, since for our first project he wanted us to paint everything at once and have a finished project by the end of class, instead of waiting for each layer to dry and building on it. Oh, I really don’t like that. I was throwing paint everywhere trying to get it done within the allowed time, couldn’t get the colors I wanted, and kept having to fix smears. Finally, class was over and I could breathe a small, satisfied sigh of relief.
Is it good? No. Is it the best I could have done within the time? Eh, maybe. Is it the best I could have done for never in my life having an art class/working with oils? YES. Am I content? Double yes.