I was born with a huge gift, with the gift of drawing skills that it made all people around amazed. I was able to copy exactly the objects on the paper already as a little child. I remember very well how I drew the Sun, by my collection of crayons, according to my little book about the universe which I was fascinated by. It made me angry that people pictured the Sun like a yellow circle with face and rays while it’s actually a huge orange-red ball of plasma. I simply couldn’t get it. The Sun, like it really looks like, seemed to me much nicer and interesting. I actually don’t understand it until now.
I recall how I drew flowers at school when I attended maybe the second or the third class. I still hear our educator which marveled at my drawing, wondering how I had been able to create something like that.
I also made a little mole one day at after school club, that mole from certain Czech fairy tale, and I carried it home. I used great crayons since I was little; however, they were water-soluble. That day when I walked with my piece of artwork towards our flat, it was raining outside and my mole blurred. It was like he was weeping. I went through a terrible meltdown after that, I was crying, shouting and screaming. It should be one of many meltdowns which were connected to my drawing latter.
I had drawn more or less without problems until 7th grade, even though there were signs of an extreme perfectionism on me already before. That perfectionism caused I was drawing without flaws, it didn’t let me made a line in a wrong place on the paper. I created many pictures, I attended art lessons and everybody supported me in my creativity. I produced the biggest amount of pictures in the time from my 5th to 7th grade when I was fascinated by drawing. I draw almost always real objects, exactly as if I had copied them.
However, what happened in the 7th grade? Just and simply, OCD occurred. That’s a disorder when, very simply put, a man does certain activity called compulsion because they have a fear that something bad will happen if he doesn’t carry out this activity. In my case, there was a fear that I’ll make a mistake. Therefore, I was constantly erasing, re-drawing, repairing…
My OCD was stronger and stronger up to that extend that I was unable to draw a picture in a shorter time that a week of intense drawing. Our teacher wanted finished pictures at school but I was just unable to finish them… I started to hate drawing, I was afraid of it. I stopped drawing at all, except mandatory pictures at school. I had long meltdowns due to my artwork which was somehow wrong in my eyes, even though everyone around tried to convince me that it’s beautiful. I was desperately crying and screaming for hours.
I got homework to draw a certain Spanish cathedral one day. It was at 8th class. I drew it several days, still unable to complete it and then when I was trying to finally finish my picture I wiped away a layer of paper because of constant erasing. I clearly remember where it happened. It was in my grandma’s house which stands next to our own.
I was a way to much for a perfectionist wit OCD. I was crying for the rest of the day, shouting in addition. I was desperately trying to fix the created pit. I was unable to go back to the picture and finish it when I had made so huge mistake in my eyes.
I didn’t go to school for the fear that out teacher will be very angry if I don’t give her the picture the next day. I was just weeping in my bed and didn’t know what to do next. Finally ma daddy agreed with that teacher that I didn’t have to finish the picture. Respectively, I had to, however much later. Even though, I was forced to hear a few ugly words from the mouth of our teacher, which hurt me incredibly much.
Then, I remember it exactly, one more thing happened. It will be completely banal in your eyes but it was something huge for me. I often used the word coward in that time, just because. I didn’t mean anything by that, definitely not anything bad. I told my daddy: “Coward.” the day after that day when he was at school solving my problems. It was just by the way, without any thinking. And he answered:” Don‘t say me anything about the coward, just you.”
That sentence stayed stuck in my memory and it still hurts a little. I didn’t drew in my free time at all since this happened, expect of mandatory pictures. I still attended the art lessons but I was unable to enjoy it. I couldn’t finish any picture after the whole year there.
When I started attending a grammar school, I stopped with artwork at all. It made me terrified. However, I find out I have OCD in the third grade when my mental health problem started increasing. I finally understood why I have had the fear I’ll make a line in a bad way all the time. I end up hospitalized in Bohunice in Brno, at mental hospital, short time after that finding. I tried drawing again when I was at home due to temporary permits at weekends. Then I find out that my OCD isn’t already so strong anymore. I was rather haunted by bad memories. Even though I tried drawing again, after so long time, because of our blog where, in my opinion, pictures just and simply must be.
I’m not hospitalized anymore even though my mental state hasn’t improved at all. To be honest I feel even worse now. I’m trying to draw for this blog and I myself wonder that I don’t have so big problems like before. So I’m trying to come back to drawing because of you, dear readers. It is a very long process but I’m trying really hard. I hope I’ll make you happy by a new picture in a short period of time.
Everything will be OK again when I’ll realize that I can make mistakes. Maybe I will never reach this statement in my mind, maybe I will do so. I know that it all depends on my point of view. Nevertheless, look forward to my next pictures which I’ll try to publish as soon as possible. After all, there’re not so many things to worry about!
|An old picture from that times I could draw without bigger problems.|