I have loved art for as long as I can remember. I’ve loved watching people create. And I’ve loved looking at art. I love design and love being creative. At school I loved art classes more than any other subject by miles.
Perhaps someone said something to me that I interpreted as criticism and it hurt. Perhaps I was frustrated that a drawing wasn’t quite right, so told myself I wasn’t good enough and gave up. Perhaps I saw someone else’s art and thought, I will never be that talented. Or perhaps I didn’t have time because as a student I was studying and partying (in equal measure) and those were more important to me at the time. Perhaps…, perhaps…I could go on perhapsing.
In truth I’ve no memory of why and it doesn’t really matter why, the fact is I stopped drawing, painting and creating art.
The last drawing I can remember was a pencil drawing of a rose that I put in a clip-frame and gave to my mum as a mother’s day present. I was skint and couldn’t afford to send real flowers, so I sent the drawing instead.
I had picked the rose on my way back from a lecture or something. It was a beautifully sunny day and I was dawdling. There was a huge climbing rose, part of a garden hedge, and it was covered in beautifully perfect yellow roses. I picked one and stuck it in a jar or bottle or something on my desk in the halls of residence. I sketched the rose on the bottom part of a page of lecture notes and thought it looked ok. So I did a, “good,” one for my mum. It still hangs on the wall in her kitchen.
And then I stopped. Apart from the odd doodle when my daughter was a toddler and would say, “draw a dog,” or an outline sketch to figure something out in my head, I can’t remember drawing like that again. Until now.
I am currently coaching a wonderfully creative woman. She is a jeweller, artist, and business owner. During lockdown she has started to paint the flowers in her garden. They are watercolours and the paint is delicate, yet strong and vivid. There are studies of an iris in rich indigos and purples that hang on the wall behind her when we speak via zoom, They are simply stunning and she references them as we explore how she and her business can grow and thrive. We explore her fear of putting herself and her art, “out there,” and her fear of, “what people might think.”
So, on Friday, immediately after our session I went into our garden. I found a rose. And after a 30-year gap, I drew the rose. It’s the rose in the picture.
As I drew, I was reminded of an NLP belief of excellence (sometimes called a presupposition), “What we recognise in others mirrors the structures we hold for ourselves.”
I recognise my own fear of putting myself, “out there,” and my fear of, “what people might think.” Momentarily I think, “Perhaps I shouldn’t share this,” and catch myself. NLP has also helped me recognise my limiting Perhaps’s for what they are, and that is very freeing.
And I think of her and how she is now putting herself and her art, “out there,” and the difference it is making for her and those she is connected to. She has received feedback that her art is inspiring. She inspires me.
So I’m putting my drawing and what I do, “out there.” And if any of this resonates with you and you would like to explore NLP, Anna Bell and I are running a two-day introduction on Fri 19 and Sat 20 June via Zoom. It is £180 for the two days and places are limited.
Please message me for further details. And if you are simply curious and want to know more about NLP and what I do, I am always delighted to answer questions, chat or explore what you could put “out there.”