I love color. I am moved and transfixed by COLOR.
I can still smell wood chips, sawdust, and the huge green machine that cut wood with a loud whirring sound. Quickly turning the corner in my Dad’s lumber yard, past a green peanut dispenser and red soda machine, I walked softly on the old slats and looked up. My eyes filled with excitement and desire to touch what they saw: THE DUTCH BOY PAINT SAMPLES. Oh my goodness…what a beautiful sight. They gleamed in intensity with a color spectrum from bright to subtle. They rimmed the tops of the wall around the store as they occupied my sight and spirit for hours. Since then, flowers of all colors, shapes, and textures have replaced memories of the little Dutch Boy with painter’s hat and overalls.
Not that long ago I took a risk. I bought paint, brushes, and a palette knife. Dabbling in the paint, utilizing hands, tools, and brushes created a rumbling of change deep within. My world took on a different lens through which I would view all things. I painted. Each painting is unique with every stroke, swipe, and drip being its own adventure.
COLOR. I LOVE COLOR.