I have loved to paint for as long as I can remember. . . I specifically remember as a kid running my fingers along the paper and into the paint. Feeling the cool slipperiness contrast with the rough texture of the paper, in what seemed like an epic battle of good and evil, love and hate, rich and poor. . . for some reason feeling the goop between my fingers gave me a sense of lack of control, a sense that I absolutely adored. . . I could manipulate what couldn’t be manipulated in a sense, without manipulating it. Tame the untamable without taming it. . . u see by breaking the rules that didn’t apply to me yet I felt a sense of freedom. . . I’m not sure what it was or how to describe it, but it just somehow became my outlet. . . from a very early age. I could somehow take the complexity of my human emotion and translate it into something people could see. . .something visual . . . something not in my head, but out of my heart.
So today my friend who is about 12 years old came up to me smiling, and in his hands an abstract watercolor that he did just for me. . . I coudn’t help but smile, a very big smile. Because deep down I know that the painting thats now on my wall was as much for him as it was for me. I don’t know why he did it or what he was feeling at the time. . . but I know that he was able to take what was in his heart and create with it, and that my friends is something beautiful 🙂