Sunday, 8 February 2015
Good for me
Some time later, when Reuben went shopping for my birthday present with Nana, he knew exactly what he wanted to find for me. A book about painting. They had to search high and low but he wouldn't settle for anything else, and they found it exactly, "How to Paint and Draw." As I said in a facebook post, even if I never learn a thing, that book will always be so precious. And that boy!
I was quite dutiful and picked up the book for a peruse a number of times, but mentioned in the lead up to Christmas that there were other things I needed to actually paint. Well, you wouldn't believe what he arranged this time. An easel! Inspired, I suspect, by my professional painting friend Sara, though I was given a little table one thank goodness, anything bigger would have felt embarrassingly frivolous and professional. Paper came along with the easel, but after Christmas we did have to pop out together and pick a couple more rather essential items - brushes and paints.
So for a little while there, at the incredibly awkward time of just after dinner, I was found sitting at the dining table painting, with Reuben leaning closely over my shoulder, chattering about paint colours, discussing my technique and being majorly impressed by my pathetic attempts.
After a few embarrassing pictures, which Reuben showed off with great pride to all the grandparents, I started getting quite keen on actually doing a better job. I rolled up the sleeves a bit, took a bit too much time when the kids ought to be getting to bed, and thought a little harder about my paint strokes and blending techniques. Old habits and distant memories of the school art house floated back.
Recently I found myself leaving the library with another painting book, one that lets you trace a picture and then gives you step by step instructions. Talk about cheating. Seriously, what would my teacher, Mr Nev, have to say? But on a dull day when we were all bored, especially me, I did pull it out and it's good inspiration. Reuben watched with his head in the way, and Esther scribbled her own version nearby.
Goodness me that boy is good for me.
For a sister post on how good the girl is for me, you may like to head over to my Griefprint blog. x