It seems I have run out of excuses not to begin a painting. As I have said, for me, getting started is worse than giving birth to an elephant because I'm often not even sure that an elephant is what I'm hoping for. In addition, facing the challenges of glaze oil never ceases to daunt me; luckily I get so addled by the prospect of juicey colour that I meekly submit to its siren call.
Presently, there are two images which have lodged themselves in my "must do" lobe: one concerns Tash and Nikka and the photos I took the spring that Nikka was born. I have long since forgiven Tash for resisting every effort I had made to learn to ride; she hid out on the back fifty whenever I showed up and churned out robust and most unladylike farts whenever I did succeed in clambering onto her. If, at any point, Tom had mentioned that Tash was pregnant, I would not have inflicted myself upon her. But he didn't say. And she didn't say. And there we were - cranky in a fug.
Once Nikka was born, while Tash became no more fond of me, she didn't mind having her picture taken with her lovely foal so I switched gears and re-introduced myself, this time as a baby photographer. She was in her hormonal Happy Place and completely ignored Despicable Me and the camera.
There are four good shots of that spring, all caught on the same day. I have painted one of them in watercolour but I think it's time to move to oil and tackle the background as well. I have always thought yellow dandelions and green grass to be beautiful so it's time to start thinking about how to build layers of grasses. You will be the first to know when/if I figure it out.