A month later and here we are again in this bright, magic place. It is time to paint our bowls! I must admit that my painting skills leave a lot to be desired. I have never particularly enjoyed this activity. However this time I feel excited, I was really looking forward to coming back. I even spent some time thinking about design ideas. I was leaning towards a bee picture on the bigger, wonky bowl. For some reason I find these small little creatures cheering up and heartwarming and cheering up is definitely what I need these days. I was not sure about the pattern for the smaller dish, but I wanted it to be colourful. Surprisingly Mrs. Perfectionist in me allowed some spontaneity this time. I did not come up with the detailed plan, I gave myself permission to decide on the spot. A bit of adventure in my rigid and organised world. I like that part of the new, emerging me.
Coming back to the pottery room… There are only myself and my husband at the table which I find quite nice and comfortable. A friendly lady explains the painting experience. She goes through available colours, tools, styles and techniques. I nod politely, but pay attention to none of that and decide to come up with my own painting technique. I pick up my bigger piece of art and start preparing it for its first coating. I give it a few rubs with sandpaper to smooth it out and I am almost ready for the next steps, for the fun bit, the painting! I take a quick look at my husband whose face shows serious focus as he prepares his bowls with extra care. I smile under my nose seeing him being so dedicated. I let him be immersed in his work while I move to finding a connection with the internal, creative part of me. I start mixing the colours! I decide to have my bowl white inside and yellow outside. I am going to draw a bee and some flowers. For someone who thought that painting is not really enjoyable I am shocked and overwhelmed with all emotions coming my way. Bafflingly I feel like a little girl again. I dip the brush in colours and pretend to be a proper artist. I want to laugh and jump from the excitement. It is nice, but feels so inappropriate at the same time. There is a voice in my head saying that I am not 4 years old anymore, I am a grown up person, so I should behave adequately to my age. However the butterflies in my stomach are so pleasant that I choose to ignore this internal critic and my age. I let my emotions out. I show the excitement by waving my hands and talking lively to my husband who does not seem to share my enthusiasm at all. He looks like an engineer working on a complicated technical drawing which makes me even more smiley. I love the precision in his eyes and the frustration on his face. I really find it funny. My energy rises up even more when our ordered coffee is brought to the table. It is served in dinosaur mugs! I love them! I can see that they were made at this place as they are different from those you can buy in a shop. I enjoy the freshly ground coffee; I take a sip and come back to my painting. My bee starts to take its shape. A little head with a pair of antenna attached, a rounded body with little wings and slim legs; it looks perfect to me. I let it dry and take the second bowl. I am a proper artist now! I smear various colours all over - green, blue, yellow, red, pink, purple. The idea is for a stylised dripping effect, however I am not too sure I capture it quite right. Surprisingly, I do not mind it at all and I love this feeling. I really cannot believe that I can do it, that I can look at myself with love, kindness and with no judgement. There is no rigidity, musts, not good enough, failure. There is a lot of fun instead. In the moment I decide to write some positive words at the bottom of my imperfect dripping effect bowl. I want them to remind me of this experience whenever I look at them. So I go for fun, laugh, joy, love and happiNNess. Oops! As soon as I write I realise my mistake with the double N, and I am surprised with my own reaction again. Instead of criticising myself I have a thought that there is nothing wrong with happiNNess. There is just more of it. And I feel it now - more happy, more joyful, more playful, more childish. I hope this “more” is a new part of me. A new more connected me…