Julia is fourteen years old and the youngest member of my Thursday morning art class.   When I first started, I thought it was odd that she wasn’t in school. But then I learned that she went to an alternative school that allowed her to spend more time developing her talents. She has studied with my art teacher for several years.

I’ve watched her with awe and a tiny bit of envy.

A few months ago, she painted a series of trees in all four seasons. They reminded me of Monet’s paintings of the haystacks at the Art Institute of Chicago. I’ve always been fascinated by Monet’s diligence in painting the same haystacks at different times of day in order to experiment with light and shadows. Julia’s paintings reflected the same type of careful study of her subject.  She also did this beautiful palate knife painting of a barn.  When she got toward the end of the painting, she decided it needed something more than what was in the photograph. She then added daisies to the field. It gave the painting an artistic pop.

Julia wasn’t afraid to exercise her artistic license.

As I watch her paint, I marvel at how wonderful it is for a young woman to be able to embrace her talent at such an impressionable age. I can’t help but wonder what my writing would be like now if I had been encouraged to write when I was her age.

Well, a few weeks ago Julia came into class and announced that she had a commission to paint someone’s dog. We were all very excited for her.  The drawing of the dog was beautiful. In the back of my mind I contemplated paying her to do a painting of our Golden retriever. The next week when she came to class, she forgot the picture of the dog. She busied herself with other things.

This past week she had the picture of the dog but still found other things to do rather than paint.  When the teacher asked her why she wasn’t painting, Julia said she preferred to draw.  After several attempts to get her started, our teacher reminded her that she was working on a commissioned painting. But this didn’t seem to motivate Julia. She confessed that she hated painting dogs.

Her words struck me as a turning point in her life as an artist. Her talent was being recognized and rewarded, but the trade off was her freedom. Her hesitation was a form of rebellion. Her inner artist refused to participate in an activity that didn’t satisfy her need for expression.

I wanted to intervene and encourage Julia not to do the painting. But it wasn’t my place. Instead, I questioned whether or not I paid enough attention to my own inner artist.

Too often I withhold what I want to write because I’m afraid of what other people will think. I hold back in fear of being too open. Consequently, I don’t trust my inner artist to guide me in the process. But art is at its best when the artist is true to herself.  There is beauty in the authenticity of the artist.

I hope Julia doesn’t do the painting, but I suspect she will.