i started art classes last week at a place near our (amanda just moved in) apartment in the old city. i'm doing a couple days a week of drawing/painting classes. when i think about it there is a fun combo of excitement and fear. excitement because i love the creative process. i enjoy getting lost in paper and pastels and finding myself hours later. i'm afraid because it might not be perfect. or at least what i was wanting.

on friday i had an interesting encounter with my art teacher. he looks like a small picasso with a beard and more energy than his body can contain. i think he must be in his seventies and probably the owner of the school.

on one of his passes by my room, he shook my shoulders and told be to be tranquila. it dosen't have to be perfect, he said. he began to explain to me the diffrence between copying and observing. copying is boring and lifeless. observing involves interaction and leads to understanding. he said that it is this type of finished product that is interesting and full of life.

i asked him, "how do you know if a piece of art contains life?" he looked at me and smiled and shuffled his feet in a prancelike way and said, "when you talk to someone you can look at them and hear them and know if they are real. if they are youthful and vibrant. can you not?"

i felt a bit awkard by his energy, but also refreshed and somehow more confident about attempting to create and failing and learning and attempting again. in many ways he reminded me that it is like learning a language. i agree. and i'm excited.