Yesterday I took out my oil paint supplies (that were given to me in 1964 by my then five-year-old friend Charis Conn who told me this year that she had to throw a fit to get her parents to buy such a lavish present for me). Mysteriously the brushes were gone (absconded to my ex-husband's house by my daughter: "You never use them!"). With a few cheap brushes from the nighborhood craft store, I decided to paint. For a few days I'd had a picture in my head of a painting of a hand - done in nearly-white pastel colors. Here's what I set up (never mind the pottery piece). Notice the lovely wooden box from Charis.
I started drawing on the canvas with a pencil:
On went the color:
and finishing touches:
It's been about five years but it feels good to be painting again - even if it is a kind of drawing/painting. I like the way the shadow of my wrist in the photo crosses over the painting of the arm - linking the two.