My Name is Bethy and I am an Artist.
But why did I become an Artist? Are you ready for a villain origin story? Oooooh boy, you better grab a cuppa and take a seat. Oh, and maybe some syrup, because this is gonna be a waffle.
When I was a young warthog, I was pretty lonely. Table for one please, I’m having a pity party.
Don’t get me wrong! I had friends in school, but my friendships in school kind of peaked in primary school, where people were stuck in the same room as me and had to be around me all the time. I loved my friends (in both primary and secondary! No hate for them!), and I still think of them fondly and wonder how their life turned out. But as most young friendships do, we drifted apart in high school. We all had different classes and groups and naturally, my friends made new friends. And I… didn’t.
As an adult, I have fully accepted that I was THE clingy friend. I tried to keep my friendship group together and fight the change and I became the friend that tagged along uninvited and wasn’t really wanted. I was the weird and quiet kid that actually liked learning stuff (and I still love to learn, I don’t think that will ever change), so I never really tried to connect with anyone after that.
I changed high schools! And countries. And this time I did make friends in school, but I was still the weird, quiet girl that loved to learn stuff, and this time I had a different accent to everyone else too. My most fulfilling relationships happened outside of school, including my bestest and lifelong friend. She’s actually my longest friendship I’ve ever had, and she’s stuck with me forever. But not because I'm clingy this time! I’ve actually learned how to be a friend now.
I also met my favourite art teacher in this school. And this is where art started to really punch me in the face.
Up until this point, I had been an academic girly. I loved Maths and I loved Science and I loved French and I loved English. Knowing what I know now, I think it’s because there are rules that come with these classes. There were right answers, and there were certain ways to get those answers, and you can get things right. And I love being right. I think everybody loves being right to some degree.
People don’t come with rules - but they should. There are certain things -unspoken things- that can break a connection with another human being.
Oversharing. Disagreeing. The things that you like. The things that you don’t like. The way that you talk. The way that you look. The clothes you wear. Accidentally offending them. Picking your nose. Not wanting to talk to them. Asking them to explain something that you don’t understand. Being different. Not smiling all the time. Existing. The infinite list goes on.
Art is completely different. Art does have rules (sometimes) but they don’t matter (sometimes). You can follow the rules, you can make up your own rules, you can break the rules, you do not need rules. It doesn’t matter. It’s different for every person. I’m personally an abstract painter first and foremost, but it’s the same for any and all art forms. Art can be what you want it to be, and most importantly, art can be what you NEED it to be.
When you are lonely, Art can be your friend. When you need to overshare, art can be your diary. It can be therapy, it can be career, it can be provider, it can be catharsis, it can be life.
You can push all of your emotions and thoughts and energy into it. Or you can leave it all out.
Art is playful. It's experimental. It can help you understand and it can help you grow and it does not care if you pick your nose in front of it*. I do not have to smile through the pain and the exhaustions and the mockery and pretend that I am happy when I paint.
When I moved on to college, I picked English and Art to study. No Maths or Science. I still love French (although I'm rubbish at speaking it). My art teacher was an ass, but I still loved art.
When I moved on to university, I picked Art to study. No English. I still love reading and writing poetry and spellchecking other peoples essays. A teacher said something that killed my confidence and love for my painting and making and creating.
And after I graduated, I put down my paintbrush.
For what felt like millennia, though it couldn’t have been.
And when I picked it back up, I was a different person. But it still felt like coming home, like a warm hug from my bestest friend.
Art saved me when I was a lonely child.
It saved me when I was a shy, scared girl.
It saved me when I was an angry and depressed and almost suicidal teenager.
It saved me when I struggled through my degree and I had left everything I had ever known and I thought I was good at this. Why am I not good enough? I tried my best.
And just recently, so very recently, it saved me from postpartum depression, by giving me back myself piece by tiny piece, after early motherhood rearranged me and threw bits of me out into the ether.
Art saves lives. And that is why I am an Artist.
*I do not pick my nose in public. I have social anxiety, I am too scared to pick my nose in public.
“When you are lonely, Art can be your friend. When you need to overshare, art can be your diary. It can be therapy, it can be career, it can be provider, it can be catharsis, it can be life.”
