Reckless painter.
I have no idea what or if wallpaper covered the walls at my Great-Grandma Collins's home in Cobalt, Connecticut. But I stepped out of time and place to about age seven as I moved my paintbrush today and found myself in Bertha Jane's front parlor staring at the flowers papered onto the walls.
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| where I left off yesterday |
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| where I stopped today |
8 comments:
WOW!! You see ... it told you... wipe me out and you did. The painting IS always right! Faces have also gone!
Carol, so encouraging and helpful to have your understanding of process reflected in your comments. I guess the painting DOES tell me! But, as in the rest of my life, some hearing loss makes it harder to pick up on what people and paintings are saying! Still, I'm leaning in, asking for repetitions : )
I just jumped in, haven't read your earlier blogs while I was away. Beautiful to see you painting flowers! They are beautiful as realistic flowers, and also as abstract shapes.
Simone! Welcome home from your vacation away! So wonderful to have you back!
Thanks for your feedback about my developing abstract floral. If you do read earlier posts, you'll see that it is a protracted process, one little bit at a time, with puzzles popping up each time I put paint to paper.
The absolute perfect description for this piece! Holy cow! It is a front parlor! You've created at time machine...I am reminded of the wallpaper inside my grandmother's wardrobe. The wardrobe was made of boxcar siding (which is rough and rustic) so she wallpapered the inside to make it pretty. :)
How amazing is it that, by pushing a spreadable polymer emulsion around on a piece of paper, you and I were so thoroughly transported? And how amazing is that mental transportation itself??! Thanks for sharing your response, Jen : )
Amazing to me, how much I can love this. In such a state of deconstructed, random, in process, more coming. It does feel homey, and welcoming, and...it does remind me of grandma's apron. (And cooking, and favorites, and love. :)
What affirming, uplifting feedback, Sheila—thank you! I, too, love this particular deconstructe, random, in-process, more-coming state of this piece … and am grateful to feel that way! Grandma's apron : )
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