I finally decided to dive into the writer's blog thing, to get me out of the writer's block thingy. What is my first post about? Well, it's not about the laborious task of querying agents and wordsmithing manuscripts. It's not showcasing a passage from one of my numerous articles or novels. No. As a writer, my first official blog is about painting.
After trying soft music, self-hypnosis, guided meditation, hot baths, warm milk, great sex and cold sheets, I've found something - something rather nifty, to help me relax and shut my brain up for a few hours. The technique I've stumbled upon is called art. Perhaps you've heard of it?
While I do sketch a little and can take decent photographs, other than the pictures I create with words, I've never sat down and tried to produce words with pictures. Oh sure, like most, I diddled and dabbled in paint, wearing most of it as a child. Who didn't? The fact is, I've always envisioned myself down-the-road to be a truly hip grandmother, sitting on my hemorrhoid-ridden, dimpled, butt outdoors, wearing cool shades and a kooky hat. In this scenario I'm holding a dinged up palette, splattered with a chunky multi-colored oil, in my left hand, and in my right, I'm waving a long frayed paintbrush. I have my trusty old easel in front of me, supporting a masterpiece that I have personally created. My arthritic hands ache, but I don't give a care.
So, having already undergone a total hip replacement at the young age of forty-six, feeling like an antiquated one hundred and three, I watch my youth and my badly beaten dented arse sneak away from me. Ultimately, I figured that I'd better get started before the Tooth Fairy yanks everything piece of enamel out of my skull and the Boob Fairy drops the ball - big time. I surmised that I had better turn this artistic daydream into a reality before my days pass me by.
The painting posted herein is mine - kind of. I opted to work in acrylics because they're cheaper than oils, and because I'm such a messy klutz that I'm liable to send a good portion of my initial investment right down the drain.
The initial process was relatively easy. I simply selected an image from a litho print that I liked and painted said image on canvas. I did not cheat, using an overhead projector nor trace anything. In other words, my painting is not an original concept but it has been painted only by me, which makes it organically mine. Plus, it wouldn't be fair to call my brush strokes a "reproduction" because as far as my painting endeavors go, I'm barely in production myself.
