I nodded at the simplistic-looking painting hanging near our table at a chic Upper Valley restaurant. “I could paint that,” I said to my boyfriend as I nibbled on a french fry. He glanced up to the watercolor. “Abstracts can be harder than they look,” he responded politely.
My boyfriend had studied art history during his time at Dartmouth College. I, on the other hand, was the type of person who’d rather spend time in the gift shop than the museum. I had little knowledge of art, nor did I show any talent for anything “artsy” other than the written word.
But I was determined to impress him. The following day, I visited the local art store. Clueless (and too embarrassed to ask for help), I purchased some cheap acrylic paints, random-sized paintbrushes and two pieces of white poster board. I had little idea what I was doing, but with every stroke of the brush, I experienced more joy. Two days and a bottle of wine later, I had completed my barn painting.
I knew it wasn’t much to see. The red square on green grass looked more like an ice cube than a barn. The entire piece looked like the work of a toddler. (When I shared it with my relatives, they were less than impressed.) But I was proud of my efforts and unapologetic about enjoying the process. Art, it seemed, was more fun than I had expected … and harder than it looked.
Still determined to give my lackluster painting to my boyfriend, I decided to drop it off at a frame shop to “pretty it up.” I told the frame shop owner my story and asked him to make the painting look as presentable as possible. But, three weeks later, when I returned to pick up the painting, the owner took me by surprise. His grin spread across his face as he spoke. “The interior decorator for a new local hotel was in here last week and was admiring your work. He wondered if you were interested in selling it.”
I was gobsmacked. An interior designer had interest in my toddler-esque work. “It’s not for sale,” I responded as I felt both elated and confused. (To this day, I wish I would have at least asked how much the buyer was willing to offer.) I grabbed my framed masterpiece and headed home with a newfound confidence. Even if my boyfriend hated my barn art, someone else was very impressed.
I’ll never be Picasso. I’ll never make a living off my art, nor do I plan on ever introducing myself as a painter at a cocktail party. But I have invested time and energy into the hobby, buying brushes, reading books and testing out various techniques. And these days, on Saturday mornings in the fall, when the air is crisp but inviting, I enjoy the quiet of sitting at my backyard easel, splashing colors around on canvas, exercising long-weary creative muscles.
By practicing art, I’ve learned to appreciate other’s art. While I once rolled my eyes at the creative pursuits of other townsfolk, I’ve grown a new admiration for the talent overflowing in our community. Library murals, ceramics studios and sculpture gardens have new meaning for me. At the town farmers market, I’ll spend more time appreciating the watercolor paintings than the spaghetti squash. And when I’m returning books at the Dartmouth library, I’ll take a detour by the Orozco murals.
Looking around the Upper Valley, we’re privileged to live in an area where art is not only created, but on display. Every time I walk into Dartmouth-Hitchcock Medical Center, I’m thankful for the color that brightens the walls. With each visit to my local general store, I smile at the old piano on the porch, just waiting for fingers. With every evening stroll through town, I’m delighted by the children’s art that hangs from the windows of the local elementary school. It’s hard to walk a block in the Upper Valley without finding some sort of expression, some creative effort, something appealing to the senses.
Sure, I’ll still scratch my head at local art from time to time. But discovering a love for painting has added a new dimension to life here in the Upper Valley. I’m a little more observant, a little more open-minded, a little more empathetic.
And as for my barn painting? My boyfriend liked it. But more so, he loved my effort. We continued dating for another year until he finally popped the question. We celebrated with a big engagement party in Lebanon … at an art gallery.
Rebecca Munsterer Sabky lives in Norwich.