I am listening to the silence lately and smiling at colors and talking to brushes. I am drawing graceful lines and shapes and I fill them with paint.
I am tuned in to the songs and lures of paint bottles, and dwelling in marvelous names of hues: sage green, spa blue, desert turquoise, berry red, wild iris, wisteria, golden straw, slate grey, kings gold, harvest orange, royal violet. Aspen green, and meadow green, and old ivy. Bahama blue and dusty mauve, bay berry and belle blush, petunia purple, orange sherbet, petal pink and pebble brook. French blue, pool blue and parrot blue, laguna, Indian turquoise, Italian turquoise, baby blue, chestnut and toffee and English mustard, kiwi and citrus and many more - how could I resist? Rolling those words like candy and pralines on my tongue - royal violet, belle blush, wisteria - I pray to the white canvas and beg it to let me kindly cover it with the rainbow, and with smashing white and black sweet little highlights.
Brand names like Americana, Apple Barrel, Folk Art sound like music and are very pleasing. I am swimming in a pool of happiness given to me by simple and readily obtainable and affordable ingredients, and the modest but lovely and humorous outcome of my efforts gives me satisfaction and causes me to feel good.
How did I never pay attention to these tools till now? To the pens and markers, to the paints, the paper, the canvas, the brushes? How is it possible I never tried before to unlock their secrets and their bliss? Why was I always so afraid of them? Never mind that now, they are here now, I have discovered them, they are mine now! Yes! :-)
Standing in line
"An artist that can draw flies is probably an artist that stinks! LOL!" Skye Taylor
(I learned a lot from him, thank you Skye)