Unleashing the Artist Within : Color Me Mine allows patrons to choose among ceramics and paint them any way they see fit.

I was a badly behaved third-grade art student.

Mrs. Kunz said to paint a picture of some flowers and instead I painted Ted DiNapoli--on Ted DiNapoli’s new denim shirt. She said to make a clay pot, and I tried instead to get the clay to stick on the ceiling by wetting it and tossing it up there.

It was all a ruse to hide the fact that I have no artistic talent. None. I couldn’t make glitter valentines, couldn’t write my name in bubble letters and couldn’t stay in the lines in coloring books. And I honestly, truly cannot draw stick people--they end up looking like road kill. I’m not artistically challenged, I’m artistically moribund.

That was until Color Me Mine, a new store in Encino that allows patrons to choose among ready-made ceramics and paint them any way they choose. Once those babies are glazed, anything can look like abstract art. Liberation of my creative self. Picasso-- c’est moi.

The Encino store is the third venture of husband and wife team Robin and Josh Monroe. They opened their first store on La Brea three years ago, started another on Montana Avenue last year and in March brought their wares to the San Fernando Valley.

“We want people to be able to be creative and express themselves and do their own thing,” Robin Monroe said. “I get people every day saying this is better than therapy, I don’t have to talk about my mother.”

But I had to screw up enough courage to get there. I have deep art-related wounds, borne of years of being denied access to friends’ Fisher-Price easels and having a mother who never hung my hopeless scribbles on the fridge. (She tries to make up for it now by displaying my news stories, but somehow it’s not the same.)

And then I hit upon the answer: I decided to drag along my even less artistically inclined boyfriend.

He is not into housewares, he grumbled. Nor is he creative, he explained. But once he started looking over the things he could make--mugs, plates, bowls, picture frames, light fixture covers, candlesticks, menorahs and more--he was more enthusiastic.

Patrons choose from pieces of unfinished pottery, which range in price from $6 for a decorative fish to $60 for a waist-high umbrella stand.

There is also a $6-per-hour charge, but the clock doesn’t start until the artist actually begins painting (depending on how intricate the design, that can be hours after you get there), so it’s wise to page through their art books, outline a design and plan an attack before requesting paints.

Customers get as much of four paint colors as needed, glaze, kiln time and much hand-holding and tutelage from the able staff. Additional colors are $1, also as much as needed.

My trouble choosing a piece grimly foreshadowed troubles to come. I also struggled with selecting a design, deciding how to execute it and settling on colors. Being both a perfectionist and an artistic moron is a bad combination.

In the meantime, my friend Jonathan was eagerly considering the possibilities. At the top of his list were a giant Tyrannosaurus Rex and a flower-pot home for the cactus he is determined to buy. He settled on the $14 flower pot; a better canvas on which to display his “creative talents.”

Since they were out of the chip and dip bowl, I ended up choosing one of the bigger items, an 18-inch, $35 bowl--which looks more like a plate to me--figuring that with my scant small motor skills, trying to draw anything big is much easier than trying to draw anything small.

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There are other options for the artistically deprived. Fish platters, boxes with flowers already lodged in the clay and small figurines which require only that the “artist” slap on an appropriate color.

Jonathan wasted no time on books and such and dove right in. He wiped the pot with a moistened sea sponge, to pick up clay dust, then began a freehand pencil rendition of a cactus. He later used letter stencils to make a border around the rim and to write “Mr. Cactus” on the pot, on one side’s rim and the other side’s body. Why write the second one on the body?

“Because you don’t expect it to say ‘Mr. Cactus’ there!” he answered triumphantly. I refrained from explaining that I didn’t expect it to say “Mr. Cactus” anywhere.

High camp is one antidote to banality.

I, on the other hand, began a long search through the stencils for a frog or a giraffe. I found butterflies. I found dogs. I found a rabbit, a duck, a seal, a cat and several varieties of fish and birds. I finally found a simple frog in a children’s book and a simple giraffe in another art book.

Copying them on a trial piece of paper was another matter. The frog was hopeless. I came up with what I thought looked like the giraffe in the picture, only to be shot down by my companion, who was already deeply involved with “Mr. Cactus.”

I asked him if my drawing looked like my favorite long-necked animal. “It looks like a friendly tall creature,” he offered meekly. I scratched that plan.

Instead, I began looking around. Other patrons had great ideas! And they were all too thrilled to say that they, too, were unartistic and willing to share ideas for the artistically troubled!

Candace Gardner had a brilliant plan. She bought a mug with a simple flower pattern--a circle with darker circles inside--and copied the pattern onto a giant platter. “I’m going to return the mug,” she explained.

Some patrons have been asked to temporarily loan their projects for display. That’s where I stole my idea, from someone who stole a great idea first.

A smart customer had copied a wonderful rendition of a James Rizzi work onto a giant plate. Ingenious. Rizzi colors outside the lines. His straight lines are never all that straight. In other words, his are among the paintings people see and say, “My 4-year-old could do that!”

So could I, apparently, although I made some modifications. The first artist had drawn some figures in Central Park. Remember, I can’t draw figures, so I stenciled in a squirrel. Where the first artist clearly drew freehand a dog and a plane, I also used stencils. Goofy-looking crooked buildings with goofy smiles even I could handle on my own.

“It’s no ‘Mr. Cactus,’ ” Jonathan sniffed, “but it’s got potential.”

No matter, I was thrilled. Color Me Mine employees were more than willing to help me find the right paints and teach me how to use a sponge to get the sky effect.

They also make the rounds to tell people how well they’re doing--an artistic empowerment group, of sorts.

“Everyone’s been conspicuously quiet about ‘Mr. Cactus,’ ” Jonathan pouted.

But the ever-encouraging employees were quick to disagree.

“Everyone can do it,” said Ailee Bloom. “People come in saying they have no talent, and when their things are done, it’s amazing how they turn out. I’m impressed by everything that’s done in here.”

Jonathan brightened. “I’m proud of it,” he announced. “I’m proud I could love something so ugly.”

Sure it took me a couple hours to choose and draw my design. True, it was completely unoriginal. And yes, by the end of five-plus hours I was so tired of sitting that I fantasized smashing “Mr. Cactus” just to relieve some tension. My plate--er-- bowl was my own personal masterpiece. Picasso, c’est moi.

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Tips for a Creative Outing

* Make a reservation. Walk-ins are accepted, but space fills up fast, especially on weekends. Parties also can be booked for children or adults.

* Utilize the staff. They have great ideas--and they know how to do this, from selecting patterns to choosing paint and paintbrush. Also, for $7 or less, the staff will glaze the piece for you instead of the piece being glazed on your clock--at $6 an hour. When the staff glazes it, you arrange to pick it up another day.

* Sign the piece. All the veterans do this, and it looks great.

Where and When

What: Color Me Mine.

Location: 16101 Ventura Blvd., Encino.

Hours: Noon to 9 p.m. Tuesday to Sunday. Reservations requested.

Price: Objects range from $6 to $60. Painting time starts at $6 an hour.

Call: (818) 784-0400.