how to draw a heart

All through my early elementary years, I was taught art by the most delightful woman in the most whimsical room. Her classroom was like a dream, materialized out of a film. There were boxes of homeless fabric scraps, a pottery kiln, shelves upon shelves of oil pastels, clay and colored pencils, all illuminated by the windows large enough for childrens' worldly daydreams. Artwork hung from the ceiling, our colorful masterpieces like laundry left to dry.

In this room, I learned to draw a heart. "Your hearts do not need to be perfect", my teacher would say, "Narrow or lop-sided is fine -- the more different, the better." Sheets were filled with hearts and hearts and hearts. Our hearts of paper and pencil were all sizes, any color of the rainbow and almost always uneven.

Uneven was the best way to make them.



I've always held an admiration for people who are dedicated to their collections. Rows of perpetually smiling Beanie Babies in the corner of the room; porcelain figures that gleam in the window light; stacks of movie stubs dating to years past; postcards and stamps glued on cardstock pages; concert passes, vintage cameras or thrifted shoes. There is dedication in a group of beloved objects slowly accumulated. There is patience and timelessness. I've always ached for a collection, yearned for one to call my own. After various attempts, I concluded that collecting wasn't for me.

Turns out, I collect photographs, and I think that's really cool.

p.s. What do you collect?