When I went back to school at Cerritos College, I had a teacher who eventually gave me a lot of freedom in her class.
I had her for three classes. By the second one — life drawing — she stopped trying to control what I did and just let me experiment.
I would tape three brushes together so I could paint from farther away.
I wasn’t trying to be clever. I was just curious.
One day she told me to stop by her office.
When I got there, she opened a book and pointed to a drawing.
It was a foot.
Tiny.
About the size of a thumbnail.
But it was perfect.
Every line was precise.
I stared at it for a while and said, “Yeah… I think I could draw that.”
She nodded and said something that surprised me.
“You could.”
Then she told me something else.
It wasn’t drawn with a pencil or a pen.
It was drawn with ink and a needle.
I looked at it again.
“Who drew it?” I asked.
She said:
“Salvador Dalí.”
Then she looked at me and said:
“You could do that. That’s your skill.”
That was the biggest compliment I had ever received.
Not because she said I was great.
But because she saw something in me I had never seen in myself.
To this day, I still think of myself as just an average guy who’s messed up a lot and is still trying to become an artist.
But sometimes I remember that moment.
And I wonder if maybe she saw something real.
Reader question
What’s the most meaningful compliment someone has ever given you?
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I write reflections, daily prompts, and Street Cinema every Saturday.
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