I still remember 9th grade art class with Mr D, the feel of the plaster of Paris as we scooped up a handful and made the form. The tools we used, turning and turning the form, adding textures, blending the colors just right. Today, some 50 years later, my hands fit perfectly. I am still proud of the grade, A for form and A for color.
It has a few chips outside, as do I, but inside I’m more creative than ever. I’ve done many creative projects though the years, making my eyes see as they never did before. My hands doing the work they know so well.
From my earliest days, I loved color. My parents always provided me with coloring books and crayons. I would sit listening to adults chat with each other and color. I loved the construction paper projects. Then came the art with with fabric and threads. Flat and three demensional projects. I had independant classes when they came to our small town. I learned to love watercolor and oil painting.
As the years passed, I continued to take classes further a field.
With my own family growing and 4 children, I would find time to do small projects, take a class here and there. Even the walls of our house were not exempt. As our family then began to shrink again, I was able to pick up my brush more and more. The more I was able to do, the more I loved it. If a new medium or technique crossed my path, I wanted to try it. When we learned about Zoom, I was thrilled. That meant easier access to lessons, of which I have taken many.
The joy I have in creating, I pass on though my work. May you find the happiness, joy and calm I share with you though my art.
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