I started a little painting a few weeks ago. It was nice to pull out my paints. It's been so long that I jumped right into applying paint to the canvas without going through all the prep work that used to be automatic: laying down newspaper, having water and paper towels aplenty, ensuring the wind won't flip something over onto wet paint. My carelessness became apparent when to my dismay, I found myself with yellow paint all over the wooden patio furniture, my shorts, and my hair. I had fun, nevertheless, putting down the base coats and getting a feel for the thing.
Weeks later, during a particularly mind-numbing workshop I was observing at work, I used some crayons lying on the table to plan the next steps of the painting in my notebook and felt quite pleased with the crayon results.
That weekend, I set up my work space carefully before turning to the canvas, heartened by my crayon plan and inspired by some photos of light and shadow I took in a magical park in France. But the minute the brush hit the canvas, I cringed. Not really getting the same effect as I did with the crayons on my notebook. Yikes. How to salvage the situation? Oh, well, I'd begun - no going back. I worked without much hope of success until I started experimenting a little with dabs of paint. And began enjoying the technique without the pressure of caring about the result. After a while, there was enough thick paint on the canvas that I couldn't do much else until it all dried. I packed up my paints and put the canvas aside, no longer sure where I was going with it.
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