Painting as a Non-Painting Major

By: Simone Rosenthal

This time last year I decided to take Painting one, an elective I’d been looking forward to since before my acceptance to Pratt. My only previous visual art experience was from a course in Drawing one and one acrylic painting on an eight by eight inch canvas. This to say, my experience was limited, and I wasn’t nearly prepared for the talent I was about to witness.

This class was mainly populated with painting majors of the same year, and many of them seemed to already be friends or friendly. I started off on the wrong foot with the professor when I skipped the second class, which included a tutorial on how to build a canvas, which we would have to complete for credit. I was a bit terrified having little skill and no friends, but I knew before signing up that it’d be tough since painting class at Pratt is not the average painting class. When we got assigned our first project, the still life, and everyone began applying shades on their canvases, I realized nobody was going to teach me how to paint. There would be no lessons, only the professor migrating through the room engaging with each student's work. Amidst the first assignment, I was lost, staring at the other students' hands for answers.

After the second class, I never skipped again. Most of the weeks following I was there early, sometimes before the professor, and would pick out a good area to work, slightly away from others. I would set up my paints and paintbrushes, pull up my reference photo, and get to work. Each painting block, the entire four hours would be dedicated to painting, no lessons or discussions, a foreign concept to a writing major such as myself. While writing normally occurs in solitude, class is almost always a space for discussion. I would notice students chatting as they painted, their painters eyes and trained hands made it so the brain muscles could relax. While I was painting, it required my entire brain.

A few weeks later, a critique for still life came around. All of my peers' paintings were eerily real and I hadn’t the terminology to describe why. The way they spoke about lights and shadows and color seemed otherworldly. I don’t believe I spoke much during that critique, more out of astonishment than fear. There was an inability for me to say more beyond It’s unreal. Being in a space with incredible artists is both scary and captivating.

This class taught me about gaining skill through practice with bits of guidance. It reminded me to not give up on the scary thing you’re interested in because it will improve you. In mid December, our final projects were due. It was our outside of class assignment and we were meant to use a larger sized canvas. Everyone's work looked incredible, and I was proud of mine. It didn’t look straight out of a photograph, but it had a painterly charm. Our final projects were hung in the east hall gallery, and it was an honor to be showcased, especially next to my classmates. Even though this course was difficult, and half of the time I was performing incorrectly, I came out with five paintings in an unfamiliar medium. In my next advising appointment I registered for painting two Spring 2026. The teacher applied less pressure but the work I was seeing was no less impressive. As I write now, I can picture the paintings. I see their striking color and detail and their vast differences from one another.