For my birthday this year Tom gave me a square canvas he had made, with free art lessons to paint a picture of my choice. I said I wanted to paint a pear and he was a bit disappointed. A pear? Hmmm, really? What did he want me to paint, a wave? There is only room for one surf artists in this relationship. So far there are no pears.
The canvas has been hanging on my studio wall for three weeks, whispering quietly that it would like some colour in its life.
I broke the project down into micro-movements to reduce the fear associated. "Paint a picture" was too confronting, whereas, "open art box and get out a paintbrush" I could handle. My patient tutor talked me through the process and I took notes like a good student.
Taking brush in hand I was nervous and excited, and had to remind myself that the canvas was not going to bite or self-combust if I made a mess of it. Once the first mark was down, my inner Monet was free.
My little red mopping shoes have become my painting shoes. A far more notable duty for them.
Here's where I'm up to :