I Paint...

From Jack Horner's Plum
To Cyber Green
To Steel Gray to Satin Black
Going back to touch up
Here and there
With well worn bristles
I find places I missed
Or had forgotten
My hands stay forever colored
I wear the same pants
To paint
And the rainbow of colors shout
As the pants make
Crinkly sounds when I walk
I go to town
Wearing these pants
So people know
I paint
And don't
Just have dirty hands.

Sold!!!!!

One of my slap it on for the love of paint

SOLD!

The whole painting

and a part

The complete painting sold today.

Just no accounting for people's taste.

This N That And My Own Accident

No pictures, Blogger is playing games so words are taking long enough.

We got rain!!!!!!!!  Wonderful, life-giving rain.  I can already see the grass greening up.  Hope we get enough to get a good winter pasture started because we certainly will not have hay from here.

I was grateful when no one was hurt in the truck accident.  I am also grateful no one was hurt, well, not much, during the execution of my graceful accident last night.

As you have read I have been repairing and working in where it's cool...and yes, I'm keeping the chair.

I have also been painting on canvas.  My end product was strange and like no painting I've completed before. 

My plan was to paint two canvases for each side of our bed to balance with our matching lamps, chrome and glass side tables and a foo-foo lacy back drop.  Sounds horrible, right?  One canvas to represent me in some way and the other to represent Hubby.

My paint usually does better than it did this time.  It made me paint this horrible dark picture with a tornado, a cave, stormy skies, cascading water and some unidentified metal thing hovering over it all.  I puzzled over this.  I looked close and far away and still didn't really know WHY I had painted this.

Soooooo, I decided to hang it on the wall just to get the feel of it 'cause it sure wasn't feeling right on the easel.

I retrieve the drill, have a screw, screw it in, screw it out and then decide I'm not tall enough to get it right.  Here's where you can laugh and the accident begins.

I climb on the bed, can't quite reach the spot I need so I stretch my left toe to brace on the metal cross frame of the (stupid looking) cute little side table, you know, the one with glass. I hold the screw in place, start the drill and all hell breaks loose.  The glass breaks, the lamp drops to the second shelf, the painting flies through the air, I bounce off the wall and back to the bed and slide into the floor.  But, by golly, I'm still holding that drill!

I sit for a moment and think how stupid can some one be...use the right tools like a step ladder!  I notice blood, lots of glass, and my over turned table.  I'm angry at myself!  Now my tables don't match any more.

I go to the kitchen for the trash can, the broom and dust pan and a wet rag to clean up my bloody foot prints.  Picked up glass, set the lamp BESIDE the table, cleaned the floor and examined my filleted foot.  I discover I am grateful for the fillet.  It was about three inches long on the bottom of my foot.  If it had gone in instead of across the glass would have been completely through my foot.

So now, my next project is to repair the side table.  Oh, and the painting...I've decided I don't like it at all!

Painting Emotions

I'm not sure what they represent

but I am lighter when I finish.

Just a part of the whole,

or does it represent a hole in the part?

I'm not a pink lover but tonight,

pink came out.

I let the colors choose me,

I allow the paint to pick the time.

I don't think.

I paint...

and that action, not the result, relaxes me.

I'm not sure why my last three have been abstracts...

but here is the third in as many weeks.

Painting is cheaper than therapy

and you can always paint over the uglies.

Two Things

There are two things that take me away...painting and horses. I am good at neither.

The touch of soft hair, the smell of a horse, the sight of any horse is like a hand wrapping around my soul and each nuance tightens the grip.

It is just being with them. I can brush, clip or train or I can sit and absorb whatever peacefulness horses seem to pass to me. They are my four-legged Valium.

Painting is the same. I lose time with both. The brush in my hand stops the clock and stills the sound around me. Colors choose me and are mixed and smeared with no forethought. The result is not something I've done but what the paints, themselves, have created.

Horses and painting take my breath away and fill me up again!