With a canvas placed on a easel (already working outside of my comfort zone as I have a lacking affection for easels and avoid their use to this day) I had sketched out the form of what I intended to paint to establish the basic outline, composition and structure of the painting.

 

Pleased as I was with my work thus far the instructor came over to see what I was doing—with the apparent intention of totally pissing me off.

 

"No no no no no," she said. Already my receptivity to her collapsed. One "no" would have been sufficient.

 

"This is not a drawing class. This is painting. Don't do this."

 

I can imagine the look on my face. Immediately I proceeded to pack up my gear. Tucking the canvas under my arm I promptly exited the studio only to return on the last day of class to present to the instructor what I accomplished at home during my truancy.

 

She awarded me a B stating that, had I attended class she would have happily given me an A. She liked the work very much. If she had access to technologies that revealed the underdrawings of each piece, perhaps she would have flunked me on the spot.

 

Already disenchanted with the educational system at the time, this did not contribute to any alteration of my viewpoint. My knowledge of art history being weak (I also didn't make it through that class in its entirety) I didn't know then that many of the great painters of past often sketched on their canvasses in preparation for applying paint with brush. Maybe it wasn't even known then, for it was many years later that x-ray and infra-red reflectograms revealed underdrawings in the paintings of such masters as Jan Van Eyck.

 

Utterly revolted as I was, time passed and I did gain an appreciation for what she was trying to pass on to me. Though I still do not follow her advice.

 

I found abomination with the very notion that any such rules applied to the making of art.