Perseverance – not for the faint hearted

To blog or not to blog, that was never a question. In fact, I shouldn’t have waited for so long. My topic of the day, perseverance.

I finished an art course that I have been proud to be part of. My drawing skills have developed so much, and I have found my art material of choice; willow charcoal. The softness of the charcoal has allowed me to create depth in my drawings, as well enhance my blending techniques. I have been able to create a dark mood throughout all my drawings and I think I have found my style. There is a mood in these drawings, a dark mood, though I’m much happier in real life, there is a presence of darkness in these drawings that I still want to explore.

I moved on to painting – this is tougher, I completely forgot how tough it was to mix colours and find the right shades. But, again, perseverance is key. If you don’t keep trying, you will never know your own potential, and I want to find my own potential in all parts of art work. We’ve been given a three week self-portrait task in class. Week one has been amazing. I have been able to mix acrylics well. To find the right angle to paint my face, and again, like in the drawing course, the dark mood has continued. It’s niche – and I like it.

I persevered in another aspect in my life as well. To rid myself of something that was lingering for so long. And it became final, and I’M SO HAPPY. I have a new lease of life and I am going to enjoy every part of my future, however easy, enjoyable or tough. And, I am going to ensure that anything that gives me stress beyond my tolerance, I will not continue. This is perseverance. Thank you world, if the experiences I have had hadn’t happened, I would have never have found out what life is all about.

Persevere, keep going, don’t stop.

 

Identity Crisis much?

Long live the blog. Though this temporarily died. I haven’t blogged in a while. It doesn’t matter much, as I have been telling the world I’ve been feeling exhausted when I have been shopping, exhausted when I’ve run on a treadmill, posted the occasional selfie with filters so you cannot see the dark circles around my eyes and a pathetic attempt of self-vanity and pouted. So all is not lost, though through social media if we do all this, we are somehow all losers.

I’m quite excited about this coming week. I’m starting an art course. Reviving those skills I acquired when I was younger. The course is called ‘Developed Drawing’ – which implies I somehow know how to draw a bit already. Though, if I look back at people complimenting my artwork so far, I have this notion that they are just humouring me, making me feel good, or joking about completely. I always seem to have this dread. So what do I do? ‘It’s not that good’ or ‘art thou sure’? (shit joke, shoot me)

Why can I never be happy with a compliment? I started searching back in my life as to when this started. I remember it clearly in high school when I said ‘I would rather put myself down first than run the risk of someone doing it for me’ and that became the habit. I left high school in 2002. You don’t need to be a mathematician to know that it’s been an effing long time for me to keep this habit alive. So fuck it. Yeah, I swore. Gasp all you want but you know it feels exhilarating.

This was my identity, sugar coated in humility. But I’m bad-ass (Ben is this being said with enough conviction?) I’m an awesome artist. I think differently. I get annoyed when people take the piss, though I still treat them well, even though they need their tongues ripped out from their mouths. This is my new ID. But wait, there is more.

I’m a bit lost. I’m unforgiving of who I am. I did a personality test to find out that I’m like Gandhi, Martin Luther King. That it’s okay to be like me. It’s okay to switch accents dependent of whom I’m speaking to. It’s okay to love Bollywood like I do. (Don’t start asking about whether Gandhi or King liked Bollywood) It’s okay to be nice to people even though they treat you terribly. The only non Indian thing I’ve done is start watching House of Cards. Though I would rather then level it up with watching Vikas Bahl’s Queen again. This is all so confusing, do I break this habit? Should I be more ‘Londoner’ or should I be proud to be a ‘citizen of the world’. I’m not sure. I’m happy to be from here, but I have a longing to belong it seems somewhere else. I don’t know. Right now, I’m stay on this fence, until it makes sense. (it rhymed, slow clap).