Adult Art Class
The Quest for Quality Adult Art Classes in Brisbane south | Salisbury
I feel like everyone had one of those “a-ha!” moments during the first lockdown restrictions in 2020. If The Simpsons ever predicted anything accurately (plot twist: they have), then the epiphany scene from The Simpsons Movie was like the prediction of our collective experience and the slapping trees were our own introspection. Suddenly, we were faced with a world of uncertainty and subconscious stress about our purpose. A lot of us turned to social media and increased internet capacity to stimulate us through those months. Most of us decided a new hobby or project or purpose was in order. Yes, I could have bought a cat or started a Depop selling tube tops or finally activated my dream of moving to a remote cottage in green rolling hills and hosting an AirBnB (I’ve still held onto this fantasy since viewing Falling Inn Love). Yet, instead, I decided to become an artist.
My journey first started in early 2021 after a hard slog of 2020 and my mantra quickly became, “Because why not?” I’ve always dabbled in my creative side and I wanted to be serious about it. The arts subjects I completed at high school were not enough, not even close. They were disorganised, “project-based” without explicit mentorship, and often used mediums that were inadequately mastered. I wasn’t interested in my casual attempts at a mishmash of mediums. I wasn’t interested in watching copious YouTube videos and replicating what I saw without any live interaction and guidance. I was interested in painting and drawing - as in seriously and at least at a semi-professional level. I was interested in acquiring a mentor. I decided that art classes were in order.
Now here lies the problem: where does one go for adult art classes? At the time, I typed in “art classes south of Brisbane” into Google and prayed for something to pop up. Everything I found was for either: (a) retirees/non-workers because classes were in the middle of a weekday, and (b) for children during school holidays. As a full-time worker and adult, neither option suited me. My research quest started to look bleak and I didn’t want to scroll to page 10 on something akin to a Tinder-binge, wading through masses of casual classes that sounded more non-committal than my last boyfriend.
Suddenly, I stumbled upon a website for a studio down the road from me in an industrial estate that offered gold: a general evening art class for adults. It was 6pm until 9pm for three hours and it involved an intimate class number. There was one master artist who taught you their best medium, and there was a mixture of abilities and levels across us all. All you had to do was contact and arrange to come in to have a look around. I had no books, no pencils, no charcoal and definitely no paints. I think I had old Montmartre oil paints stashed haphazardly in my basement somewhere from ten years ago (I soon learned that Montmartre paints were not even remotely high-end, bless them).
As soon as I arrived (spot on 5:55pm, a nervous reaction to my otherwise time-blind personal life), I was faced by a massive “2b” and “9” stamped on the outside of the building. There was great carparking because of the industrial estate and large street. I peeked down the corridor gallery and saw a group of adults crowding around a coffee table and sinking into couches. Art books were on most flat surfaces, opened as references. One man, his name was Leo and he was so intellectual and lovely, laughed loudly down the corridor and continued discussing something so pointed it was like an academic joust. “Come in!” called a cheery voice to me and my feet immediately started following down the corridor on their own accord. I was introduced to everyone - a mishmash of older and younger women and men - and had a cup of tea plonked down in front of me. I soon learned over time that tea, coffee and sugary biscuits in the lounge area was a staple for this community - it allowed artists to have a break, reconnect together and produce better quality artworks.
It turns out all the artists started off in a similar way - they pop their head around the front door and meekly admit to whoever is sitting on the couch down the end something roughly like, “I want to do The Art.” My favourite story was of a good friend, Alex, who marched right up to the artist dozing on the couch and jolted them awake with the announcement of her arrival at artistic enlightenment in her boisterous Floridian accent.
My first lesson was about shape and perspective. The master artist led me to an easel (custom built for all heights, so it was a blessing for my tall frame), gave me a piece of sketch paper on backing board, and a 2B pencil. They placed a mug and a bowl in a still-life pose before me. “Draw this,” they instructed. “I’ll be back in ten minutes to see what you’ve got.”
It was the hardest ten minutes of my life. And that’s saying something, considering I once sat through the Shane Dawson live stream.
When this master artist came back, they took one look at my butchered attempt of ovals (I soon learned to be “the ellipse”) and picked up their own pencil and paper. For the next twenty minutes, this artist step-by-step modelled to me measurement, perspective and even addressed my stance. I was taught where to place my leading foot so I could go away and have a cup of tea (very important) and come back. I was taught the art of standing back and extending the dominate arm, understanding how to see the bigger picture and not be caught up in minute details to the point I was drawing lopsided like a left-handed contortionist downing the wine. Everyone around me minded their own business and were polite, so I never felt inadequate for my beginner-101 status. It was explained to me that over months I would graduate from pencil drawing to charcoal drawing to grisaille oil painting (to understand tone). Then, I would graduate to coloured oil painting. Line, shape, gesture, structure, tone, colour and revising my understanding of perspective were a must.
After three hours of this effective round-about process of adult learning - the one-to-one modelling and discussion, the leaving of me to my own devices respectfully as a functional adult (at least, I hoped), the individual projects we each had - I was hooked. I booked the remainder of the term, and I’ve never looked back.
Chrome Street Studios is now owned and managed by Amber Simpson, a wonderful contemporary artist in her own right. The teachers, artists and friends she has brought together in our Chrome Street arts and entertainment hub is a lovely staple in our Salisbury, Brisbane community and well worth the creative energy.
The main space of Chrome Street Studios
Artistic, intellectual, stimulating, bohemian, inspiring, lively yet peaceful. A perfect home away from home.
Learning about colour using the recommended:
Titanium white, Raw umber, Ivory black, Cadmium yellow, Cadmium red, Alizarin crimson, Burnt sienna, and French ultramarine
Finally broke into the coloured oil paints! Fond memories of back when my tubes were crisp, shiny and full. Nowadays, I’m fundamentally lazy with the tube cleaning. I have to get pliers for some of them. Or my stronger friend, Alex. Or my stronger friend Alex and the pliers. Please don’t use me as a role model.
Some of my earlier pieces while learning still life.
Some of my earlier pieces while learning still life.
Some of my earlier pieces while learning still life.
Some of my earlier pieces while learning still life.
