My First Professor

I was just a kid,
I mean really, just a kid.
Preteen. More like, the third grade.
It was summer, and my parents both being professors, well
I spent a lot of time at school.

I was told there was an art program there.
Art and books were all I was into at this age,
so this was a really big deal to find out.
I made a mental note when the art professor was pointed out to me.

She was both elegant and erudite, despite being casually dressed.
She mostly observed and seldom spoke. One day I followed her from the cafeteria to the designated smoking area. I stopped her before she lit up. I touched her thigh slightly to get her attention, for as a child that was as high as I could reach. I was so shy and humbled by her, that I began to cry, but somehow between sobs, I was able to get out that I wanted to be an artist like her and I wished that she would teach me.

Now, this could have gone one of two ways. Fortunately for me, she took me seriously. She said she would talk to my mom and dad and if it was okay with them, she would give me lessons. Thus began our relationship and my undying respect for her. My first official art lessons from a college professor in the third grade were about what you'd expect. Yet I drew in charcoal, I etched, I painted and I learned of art history at a young age. I don't think I really came up with anything of any value, but the foundation for my career in art had begun. My sense of composition and ability to work reductively I still attribute to these early lessons.

I was to study under her two more times. Again in the sixth grade and then many years later as a junior in high school, where I realized both my true potential as a painter and hers as a true mentor. It took me two years during high school to get into the Governor's School for the Arts, and in a joyful twist of fate, upon acceptance I learned she was to be my painting professor.

Here is where I learned from her the planning behind each major masterpiece in painting. The religious undertones in every Rembrandt, the contiguous lines of composition in every major Degas. My admiration for her became tremendous and it remains so to this day.

I think of her often, mostly during two scenarios being played out before me. The first is whenever I begin to paint for a show. I always wonder what she would think about my process, and worry like hell if she would even like the end result. The truth is, I couldn't predict her likes and dislikes. She's fairly unflappable, so shocking her with something is out of the question. When I have a show that pokes fun at the whole process, I'm pretty sure she would immediately get it and laugh. I suppose it's when it's a show I'm serious about conveying a true message that I worry the most. Having written this, I think I'll ask her.

The other time I think of her is whenever I see a woman of conviction. When I meet a woman who mainly uses her eyes to communicate her thoughts, I always think of her. She's one of the few people whose own personal beauty becomes revealed only when she's chosen to acknowledge you. Like a secret door.

A few years ago, I had the pleasure of seeing her. Rudely, I poked around her classroom and surprised her on her lunch break. Just like the very first time I interrupted her daily routine, she took me in. I sat in her office and funnily enough we discussed computers. She migrated to teaching design and we discussed software and the pain it is to learn it. It was both strange and wonderful to approach her as an adult. I left her just as blown away as the first time we met.

If any of you ever have the privelege to take art lessons from Claire Hampton at Volunteer State Community College in Gallatin, TN, then you will know the joy I know from having learned from her. Despite any misgivings one may have about the education received at a junior college, be assured that Claire is very selective about her students and will elect not to teach you if you don't take art seriously. It's for this reason, and the impending result, that I was initially humbled by my first professor, a truly great woman and artist.