Well, three weeks into my drawing class and I was feeling reasonably happy with my drawing.
And then K struck.
I was showing my drawing to my mother the day after my last blog entry. I lay the paper on the couch as that was where the best light was shining. We had our backs to K who was over the other side of the room playing with her toys. I was telling Mum what I had been doing and what the teacher had been saying to me about the drawing when between us rushed K, her arm outstretched with an orange crayon in her hand. She managed to sweep two crayon marks onto the page before I caught her and pulled her away.
K was immediately put in the naughty corner (thanks Super Nanny!) in tears and I wasn’t too far away from them either.
We worked through it, and K was sorry. In fact, later that afternoon she said “I’m sorry Mummy for hurting your drawing.”
I have never felt so devastated. It was a weird experience. I was torn between comforting K and seeking comfort for me. I had spent 3 weeks, 6 hours in total, on that drawing. That was 6 hours of time that I was doing something just for me. And it felt like it was all gone in an instant. I know that is an overreaction. It is a drawing that I can do again and replace. I can move on, and have. In a couple of hours this week I have caught up on about 4 hours of that original work on a new piece. But it won’t be my first drawing.
So, a new drawing is underway and I am due at my next class tomorrow night. So here’s hoping I can get this done in time to enter it in the Art show.