Tinder Creeps

A wet Tuesday was the beginning of it all. With a box of pastels from the bargain bin in her grasp, Claire—our “paintbrush prodigy”—was standing. She had overheard people in the art world muttering, “Pastels are tricky,” as if to indicate their understanding with a knowing nod. It’s going to be a disaster. Your fingertips will be numbed from all the blending you do. Nevertheless, Claire simply shrugged and enrolled in a Harmonious Pastels painting class nevertheless. She reasoned that someone, somewhere had to have deciphered it.

That initial hour? How funny. Smudged like a ransom note, her drawing was unsettling. At the two-hour mark? The situation is still bleak, but there may be a ray of light. Something snapped around the time she drew her twentieth sketch. She shifted her focus from attempting to “paint right” to just having fun. Fun experiments make beret-wearing giants frown. Claire smirked and splattered on some neon pink.

The art of layering, which many pastel artists preserve with a dragon’s ferocity. Shapes other than flat blocks. Avoid boring desserts. Using a kneaded eraser as necessary, layer after layer, and delicate touches. This was driven home repeatedly by the course. Time, rather than force, brought about greater depth. Almost immediately, Claire saw that her teacher was a cheerleader and a color wizard rolled into one. Faux pas? These became bursts of inspiration, like lightning bolts.

She had to tell herself it was okay to become dirty before she could win. On one occasion, her dog followed a paw across an incomplete terrain. Big Deal? Not at all. She planted a field of wildflowers there. She learned to use “happy accidents,” as Bob Ross’s admirers may say, in her work. By utilizing the edge of the stick instead of the tip, she observed the shading and highlights come to life. She mastered the “feel” of it, much like incorporating butter into flour.

She had older artists who mocked her Instagram posts. One of them moaned, “Cheating,” as they watched her time-lapse footage. The problem was that Claire no longer gave a damn. The beat had come to her. Dozens more hesitant artists reached out after she revealed her technique, mistakes and all. Some people only messaged to make fun of the pervasiveness of paint. She built her castle of skill brick by ugly brick.

The turning point came when she depicted her childhood dog nestled in the dense branches of a made-up willow tree. There it hung in her kitchen, crooked. Those wildly contrasting hues shimmered together, though, as the light hit the drawing at the perfect angle. That isn’t some magic trick she picked up from a DIY manual. A good instructor with chalk dust on their shoes, along with effort and joy, make it all happen.

Then what should you do if you come across a freshly painted pastel that has an excess of yellow or a thumbprint on it? Perhaps you shouldn’t roll your eyes so quickly. Somebody managed to have fun while outwitting a hundred scowling critics. There are moments when genius is really just a mask for stubbornness.