Exactly two years after I first started taking art classes and one year since I took my last, I am tonight starting a new one. This will be painting a series.
My daughter has given us the rare gift of good sleep and being extremely even-keeled. That with the additional gift of a good-hearted and supportive husband means that I am able to do this class. so this morning I ransacked my little closet of supplies for paints, pens and papers to take.
Two years ago I was apprehensive and felt ill-prepared when I began the collage class. What a difference two years makes. I rummaged and packed with purpose and excitement though that's not to say that I don't have some reservations about what I will be able to achieve. I am out of practice to say the least and as someone who considers herself to have no natural talent, the practice is what matters.
It is the experience that I look forward to, and I care not one bit for what I make. I just want to be buried in process again and wading through the mud makes me giddy with excitement.
