1985 Was The Year
When I was much younger, I took an oil painting class at a community center in Edmonds, WA. (where I grew up) I'd only worked with watercolors up to this point and I desperately wanted to try oils. This was back when the only way to clean your brushes was with turpentine. Way before OMS were invented. It was a smelly and probably not very safe place to be with multiple oil painters in one room. But anyway... I can't recall the instructor, where they a man or a woman? Who knows? That part is all forgotten.
We were all given the same basic scene to paint. The scene was a forest trail leading to a couple low structures with red roofs. I cannot recall how long it took me to finish this painting but when I brought it home, my mom was so happy that she went out and had it professionally framed.
This painting hung in her home for years until she passed away and then it returned to me. At first, I just stored it away in a stack of other paintings.
Now, I look at this painting and see all the things I could have done differently/better but what is the point in doing that? I like it overall and I especially love the sky with the white, fluffy clouds. It's peaceful and makes me happy just to have it to look back upon.
I know I painted other scenes, but this was the only one that made it to a framer. It's lasted over the years and I love it!
Everyone has that one artwork or whatever you made (a piece of furniture or a knitted sweater) when they were younger that takes them back to a time and place. For me this was my beginning as an oil painter. I just wish I had kept at it instead of letting other interests take over my attention. The important thing is I did return to painting again. That was a wise decision.💚💜🧡
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Space for me to write what's on my mind regarding art and life and how the two meet up.