I've been playing in my paints again, just for fun. The pleasure I get from doing it is comparable only perhaps to once again being a child and opening up a brand new box of crayons. The sixty-four pack. With a sharpener in the back. There were endless possibilities in that box. It's the same when I start to take a bit of colour and mix it with a touch of something else. Anything can happen on that canvas. It doesn't always match up to what is swimming around in my head, but I feel a type of surprising joy when I see what I actually can do.
It's fun, that's why I do it. It's only about creating soley for the sake of pleasure. It's about giving myself a chance to not only play in my imagination, but to also bring a little bit of it (me) back to this reality.
Here they are, those that I've finished, that I haven't forced upon friends in the name of friendship. The top one is my very first painting ever and holds special meaning only in that my wonderfully talented sister pushed me to try it and then raved about it enough that I tried again. The next two are of Oban Bay in Scotland, on two different evenings. The last is from the MacGregor lands, close to where the legendary Rob Roy is buried.
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