I'm Going Back To School

I’m now a part-time student.

Four days a week, three hours a day, I’m in art school.

As my grandma used to say, ‘Who would’ve thunk it?’

At the start of last year, I had this urge to put color to canvas.

I did some abstract stuff (i.e below) and really enjoyed it.

Then an artist friend of mine suggested I learn figure drawing.

I took some online courses and couldn’t get past these weird robot-looking things…

After four months of struggling solo, I hired my Argentinian artist friend, Santi, to teach me for ten days.

I was an excited student…

But not exactly precocious.

This was my masterpiece after my first day…

After thirty hours of private lessons however, the improvement became noticeable…

Even though I was approaching it as just a hobby, Santi kept—and keeps—insisting that I shouldn’t rule out the professional route.

I’m still doubtful but he always responds with, “Hermano, if you continue to practice and develop your own style, being an artist es posible.”

Alright, Santi. I’m motivated.

Isn’t that what great teachers do? Help you see a vision of the future you hadn’t even considered?

So I’ve kept practicing over the past six months.

And now, with my move to Barcelona, I couldn’t think of a better place to fully dive in.

Barcelona is a hub for artists. Has been for centuries. Picasso even had his own cafe here for them to all hang out in.

The art school I go to is packed with some of the best young painters I’ve ever seen. Hundreds of them, with their thin brushes, headphones on, calmly drawing naked models.

I feel like I’m in 14th century Florence. It’s the coolest thing.

And just a week in, I’m creating things I never thought I could...

This decision to pursue art reminds me of when I was in university and majored in History.

My mom begged me not to. She insisted I study management or accounting.

Her concern made sense.

But I couldn’t help it…Studying history was like time traveling.

I got to float up the Yangtze River in 19^th century China, spend time with Nelson Mandela in apartheid South Africa, and join Simon Bolivar on horseback during the independence movements of South America.

With every class, I was taking a big ol’ bite of the world.

My taste buds were on fire.

And yet, when I signed up for those courses, I had no clue that they would be my gateway into writing.

I didn’t know I would have to churn out essays.

That studying history was also a study in prose.

How could I have known that that skill would eventually help me write social media captions, emails, and scripts for a YouTube channel? Or that it would allow me to publish my first book and put together these newsletters?

I was just following my curiosity.

With art school, I’m now doing the same.

Who knows how learning to paint and draw will help me down the line.

Maybe I’m the next Banksy.

Or maybe I’m just a guy who makes paintings for his friends.

Or maybe I get bored and stop.

No one can tell.

But if the interest is there, if I feel completely absorbed and in love with the process, why would I stop?

Love,

Matt

PS - Way more of you live in Barcelona than I expected. Instead of answering each of your messages, I think I’m gonna organize a hang out for all of us. Will send details to that in the next newsletter :)