Painting
I love to paint. So far, I paint only wall murals and eggs and the occasional watercolor. But I have a dream …
My loves pooled resources recently to buy me a spot in an oil painting class for my birthday. I mentioned my desire to take this class a few weeks ago and, although I didn’t know I was doing it, in hindsight I realize I was saying out loud what I want—and doing so despite the considerable cost, or the impracticality of it, or all the million and one other reasons not to do it. It’s quite amazing and I am (repeatedly) blessed to find that often when I do that, someone is listening, and ultimately I somehow get what I want. I never dreamed that my darlings would do this for me and was/am totally awestruck by the thoughtfulness of the gift.
Me. Oil painting.
I have wanted to do this since I was 9. No kidding.
This week I popped over to the gallery/art studio and paid for my class. I have six evening sessions (6-9 p.m.) to use over the next four months. I have a materials list in hand, and some cash left over from my patrons to put toward the supplies I’ll need.
The painting teacher is on vacation now but will return at the end of June. So next month, I will be painting. With oils. On canvas. And if it is even half as sublime and satisfying as I’ve always imagined it to be, I will rejoice. Even if I suck.
Thank you.
