I am an amateur in matters of art. In childhood, almost every one of us took our parents to drawing, singing, dancing, playing instrument lessons, maybe these were sports sections, but in this conversation I don’t take sports into account. So, my idea is that parents only give us the opportunity to learn something new for themselves. While you are attending classes to study any kind of art, you gradually come to the conclusion for yourself whether this direction is acceptable to you, whether successes in your work appear, whether there is a tendency and talent in you to create something “beautiful”. Perhaps you had to change direction. For example, a style in dancing, or you prefer the piano flute and with renewed vigor began to learn a new instrument. Or maybe you are completely desperate and realized that you are not interested in any of the areas and you decided to slow down. You stopped going to classes and changed your circle of friends, found a hobby in other things. And at a more mature age. In an instant, strange feelings and sensations swept through you. A sensation of pain and joy mixed in your chest at the same time, your chest is inflating like a balloon, thoughts flash in your head one after another and you cannot concentrate your attention on anything other than the idea that screams “Create” for you. My friend, so inspiration burst into your life. And an inveterable thirst has settled in you to turn your emotional impulse into a work of art. I can infinitely much describe my emotions and feelings that I feel at the moment of inspiration. It's unusual. I believe that this happened to every person at least once in his life. What do you say about this? Has this happened to you? What art did you direct your impulse into? Show your masterpiece to the world. Feel free to show off your creation. I am sure that there will be admirers for every work. Now my great desire is to paint in oil. Although I haven’t studied at the art school for a single day and don’t have basic drawing skills. I have only irresistible desires to do smear after smear with the help of a palette knife on canvas. I imagine a white canvas, next to it are tubes of paint, brushes, a palette knife, a palette. I am wearing a white free size shirt. This will happen in the workshop, with gray, poorly painted walls, wooden floors with bursting varnish. This workshop is an old artist. It is unusually old, it contains a lot of colorful creative objects. Plaster figures, old brushes, paint cans, broken easels. It is difficult to describe this situation in words, but it is very easy to imagine fantasy in one’s head.