#2801 we went to do art

Let me tell you about why I went the Greece, and Crete specifically: I went to do art. Lizzie knows this artist, Jill Badonsky, from living and being creative in San Diego. Jill was doing a creativity retreat, originally planned to be held in southern France, but later moved to Crete because of Covid restrictions, and probably some other things, too. Lizzie and I decided to go ahead and go on this retreat, and booked a couple of days in Athens beforehand, because, why wouldn’t you?

When we got to Chania, we were pretty much immediately immersed in creativity. I wrote about that first day previously, and told you how silly and out of my element I felt. I like to write and take photos, so I was excited about that part of the creativeness, but the sketching and the painting was kind of scary for me. I felt self-conscious and often compared what I was doing with others, especially Lizzie, because she was right by me all the time. 

I’d run across a quote from Sylvia Plath that said, “The worst enemy of creativity is self-doubt.” Jill the Artist said, “Tolerate the imperfect in yourself.” I often thought of those quotes when I felt like giving up and maybe just ordering another drink or going off for a walk. There were a few times I thought about doing either or both of those things. 

Part of what I really liked about the retreat was that we went out into the town to do our art. The first place we went, on the very first day, was a little restaurant/cafe on the Old Harbor. The next day we walked out to the lighthouse, then did a writing session in a restaurant on the harbor.

One day we went to the Crete Botanical Park - I’ll write a separate post about that place because it was so incredible. We did some art in the restaurant at the park.  Here’s something I did there:

I took photos of the sketches as they were in progress. This was definitely one of the days I felt like walking away. I could have gone back out onto the mountain and walked around some more, but I stayed in there, making a mess and learning to be okay with my messes.

Like, what do you think this is?

You can stop guessing. It is supposed to be this:

I know. This was truly a moment of tolerating my imperfection. 

One morning we went to a groovy little cafe on the second floor of a building in the Old Harbor. This was my view:

The group of us sat at a couple of tables and sketched and painted and drank coffee (or beer). This was another day that I just wanted to run away from painting and sketching. I felt inadequate and hopelessly outclassed. A couple of the women were sketching a group of men at a table near us. One of the men came over to see what we were doing - something that happened surprisingly often - and the man was so delighted by what the women had sketched and painted. His joy actually brought tears to my eyes, because he was so obviously touched and flattered by the sketches. It was very moving. I also felt sad because I knew the dude that I was sketching would NOT be overjoyed that I had turned him into a dog-faced man.

Sorry, dude.

Meanwhile, art was happening all around me:

Lizzie’s digging the art scene!

Jill is in her happy place, and frankly, so am I. That’s my beer.

I took a break to sip my Mythos and watch Jill sketch her little face off. I decided to think about what Sylvia Plath said about self-doubt and get back in the game. I also made a commitment to myself right there that I would not compare my creative efforts to anyone else’s art. These women are talented, wonderful, bright, creative creatures, and I vowed to enjoy being around their energy. 

Even though my art didn’t necessarily improve after that epiphany, I started to have more fun with it and make peace with the fact that my skill level is basic beginner at best, and that’s okay. I was doing something I hadn’t ever tried before and sometimes it worked and it was fun, and sometimes it was a hot mess, and it was still pretty fun.

We spent a couple of mornings at Splantzia Square. What a fantastic spot. This was toward the end of our week in Chania, and I think we were all getting pretty comfortable with the town and each other. By this time, I was feeling relaxed and lightening up on myself a little. 

Our group, doing our thing

Another group shot

My work in progress

My favorite souvenirs are some little zines I made. Jill the Artist told our group about the zines idea before we went, and I made a bunch of them before I left the States. I ended up making a zine for each day we were in Chania, plus one for Munich, and one for the travel days. If you don’t know, a zine is a sheet of paper, folded and cut just so that it become a wee booklet with eight pages.

Here is one from a day in Chania:

Page 1

Page 2 and 3

Page 4

A little explanation about page 4. Lizzie and I went to the beach. That’s Lizzie in the water. She’s a mermaid. That’s me, with the red hair and the hat sitting on the beach with a book. :) And yeah, that dude has a belly-button.

Page 5

Some of our group got together at an awesome restaurant called Adespoto, which may also get it’s own post because it was so cool. Page 5 is a quick and dirty sketch of everyone who was there to have fun with words. 

Page 7

Page 8 (never enough Greek fries!)

Page 8

A groovy little souvenir that reminds me of my days in Chania. They were super-fun to do, and I can totally see myself making these on future trips. In fact, I carry one around with me to even today and sketch or doodle when I am so inclined. 

I’m really glad I went on this trip. For one thing, I got to spend really quality time with my sister, and that was the very best thing. I got to see another country, one I haven’t been to before. And finally, I got a little confidence in myself that I didn’t really expect. How else can you explain sharing my insecurities and my scribbles with all seven of you here on the interwebs?

Questions run through my mind whenever I sit down to write, or sketch, or paint…why? What am I doing this for? Why do I continue to write here on the computer? Why keep a journal? What’s the point of trying to draw or paint? What am I supposed to do with all of this? Who even cares? I doubt there will be a future generation to even think, “Wow, Grandma was a bit nutty.” So why? I guess the answer is because it gives me a bit of joy, a little way to let myself show that I am here now and, as Walt Whitman said, “I am large, I contain multitudes.”