When I was about 14 years old, I won a set of oil paints in a local art competition. I'll never forget that feeling and the smell of the oil paints as we were first introduced.
Once I was married and had children, I put away the oil paints and moved to water colours as they were easier to pack away at dinner time and there were no fumes that could make my children ill. Then all the paints seemed to stay packed away as the children got bigger and life got busier. Over the last few years I've painted again, but in acrylics. But you never forget your old friend, your first love.
A few days ago I discovered my oil paints in the bottom of a cupboard, my heart started racing, my hands started shaking and I knew I had to try them out again.
I opened the tubes, squeezed out the rich colours onto the palette, mixed in the turps and oil and started to paint. But nothing felt the same, the way the paint leaves the brush and sticks to the board is totally different to acrylics. It was like speaking a language that you haven't used in a while, you know what you want to say, but the words don't come out right.
Patience and determination do pay off though and the result is this little painting of my son.
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"Red Faced"
Oil on board 15 x 15 cm |