Michaelishious - Vol. 2020

Dec. 21st: Only almost

"Then you draw the outline so you can get the shape right, before you start. Remember the measuring technique to get the proportions right. Yes, Ms. Madelyn?"

I lowered my hand and straightened my back before I cleared my voice. I wasn't the one to ask a lot of questions, but I was really eager to learn.

"Do you use a different pencil when you're doing that?"

"Personally, I prefer that since it makes it easier to see the modifications you make during the process, but you're free to choose yourself."

"How do you highlight the cheekbones, Mr. Jackson?" the guy next to me asked. I'd learned that his name was Patrick and that he used way too much hair gel to keep his blonde locks in place. Other than that, he seemed nice, but that's about it. Unfortunately, he continued interrupting me by asking about things I was sure he already knew the answer to. After all, he'd started this course at least one year before me.

"Let's stick with the outline first, shall we? The details come later."

Mr. Jackson's gaze lingered on Patrick for a moment, and I couldn't quite read if he was annoyed or just tired. Then his face fell back into his usual mild expression.

Michael Jackson was the kind of man who always had a smile to offer, and his eyes were loving and curious. I don't know why, but he always made me feel strangely calm and safe. And if I'd been caught up with school and had my shoulders way up above my ears, he made the weekly art course appear like a personal oasis that breathed life back into me.

He carried himself with grace and dignity, and people automatically respected him without him doing much to prove his dominance. Maybe it was his age? I didn't know exactly how old he was, but he was older than my dad, yet the blooming amusement in his eyes revealed the youth in him every time he found something funny or intriguing. And his laughter was the best. You just wanted to keep doing whatever it took to make him keep chuckling, because it made you laugh too.

"Observation is the key," he announced, and I studied the first few lines on an otherwise white page in front of me. But my attention returned to him soon after.

"You can't carry your sketchbook with you at all times, but you can take notes with your mind. You can draw with your mind. You can notice the details that you want to capture, and store it in your mind until you get the chance to let the emotions flow through your hand and down at the canvas."

His eyes drifted and landed on me.

"You can spend all hours of your day collecting new sides of something you find beautiful. Or someone. Until you're so full of inspiration that you can't help but to let it all out."

A little red cheeked, I swallowed and felt a bit self-conscious, even though there wasn't a single trace of judgment in his stare. He smiled to himself, and let his eyes wander around in the room.

"The curves. The light. The shadows that in many cases can be more detailed than anything. The mystery is created there, and it appeals to our curiosity and our need to explore. Sometimes it's the shadows of the smallest things that can change the whole expression of a picture."

I felt it before I saw him looking at me again.

"It can be a strand of hair, or the eyelashes. The curves that form the lips or the shade along the jawline. It doesn't matter what it is, as long as you shape it with your heart. Whether it's a drawing or a painting you're working on, a sculpture or a poem, or maybe even a song; create it with your emotions. The techniques I'm teaching you are only tools you use to get to where you want to be. Because that's what art is; a state of mind."