“April hath put a spirit of youth in everything. (Sonnet XCVIII)”
― William Shakespeare
8″x6″ oil on single oil primed Belgium linen. I bought a multipack of panels trying to decide which surface I like the best. The single primed linen really grabs the paint, it takes more paint to fill the tooth, which was perfect for this wet rainy painting.
We have all been there…watching the sky turn darker and knowing that any moment the dinner bell will ring and we will have stop reaching our toes to the sky, soon to wash up and help put dinner on the table. Those final swings are often the best, you feel the wind in your hair and the chill in the air more on the swing or two after the bell.
For you it might be the last sunset of a trip to the beach, the last present under the tree, the last few drops of your mom’s perfume that has long stopped being manufactured, or holding someone’s hand as you wait for the final breath. We often experience some regret for loosing track of all the sunsets or moments before this last one. For years my husband worked on an oncology ward. He passed some of the many lessons he learned from his patients on to us. Most people don’t suffer on their death beds wishing they had worked more, or saying “so glad we skipped the hike in the woods with our small children to organize the garage.” He often punctuates a family outing, telling us someday something will separate all of us. Far from being dark or morbid, I have come to take these reminders like a snooze button on an alarm, allowing me to continue what I was doing with a new awareness that opens me to the gift. Perhaps if you are quiet, you can hear the dinner bell ring….
Here is 5 year old Miriam playing in the mountains. She is not in the Austrian Alps, but in my mind’s eye she is, for a few months after this photo was taken she played Gretl in the “Sound of Music.” If I close my eyes I can see a mix of her playing in the mountains and her singing on stage…a perfect type cast for the littlest Von Tropp child.
Last summer, I watched her run this little loop for what felt like an entire afternoon…up the rocks through the stream, under the waterfall. I marveled at the time at how different her posture was from the boys. The boys would have had their elbows tucked in, their jumps would have been higher, more controlled, their whole approach more athletic. Miriam, however, never forgot to frolic. Every move seemed to pour out sheer joy. She is like that in life too, and from time to time, I remember to stand back and marvel. she helps me to remember that you don’t always have to walk, it is ok to skip sometimes. Instead of talking, you can sing a merry little tune, and most importantly, greet everyone you encounter with a smile and a few words – there are no strangers in Miriam’s world, and because of it, she has helped my world to grow smaller too.
I love watching children create work. The ocean was a deep dark cerulean. Beautiful.
“You can’t go splashing through puddles of happy without getting some of it on you.”
― Becca Wilhite
My workshop requested a figure demo of a figure in action. It was fun playing with the colors, and painting with such an attentive audience.
If you haven’t run through a fountain or sprinkler lately, perhaps it is time.
I love the afternoon light and shadow on this puddle on the sidewalk.
paintandsimple 