I
often wish that I painted more. I am not very good at it, but since I have some
semblance of an idea as to how, I believe I should at least try. Through my recently
completed painting, I have learned that I am a person who likes to take
his time: I began the piece in the summer of 2011 and just finished
last week. You would think that this implies that I have a masterpiece
of sorts on my hands… unfortunately what I've really got is a hodgepodge
of sloppy brush strokes which was a process of both learning and relearning the
basic fundamentals of how to paint the entire time. Several
whiskies, Johnny Cash albums, and hours passed in the basement later, I
finally finished this beast of a project. By my math, at this rate Ive
got about 30 more in me until I kick it, and I am shooting for perhaps
my 15th or 20th to begin to resemble something like a work of a person who truly knows what they are doing.
Churchill
(whose book I have also been reading for 2 years) reflected once
that he wished he could have been a painter, if only to have left the
world something tangible upon his passing - I think we are all better off
that Churchill did not choose painting as his vocation and that others
whose place he may have taken (Dali perhaps?) were not at the helm of the British Empire's war machine during WWII, but I can’t help but admit I share the
same thoughts sometimes as Winnie. My dad was a painter, and left behind
dozens of paintings which I feel to this day serve as one of the most
meaningful links we have. I feel like I can glimpse his personality in
them. I feel like in some small way I know how he was feeling when he
was working on them. Should I feel the same way? Will I one day have a son that only knows me through the paint that I have smeared on a canvas? It is doubtful, but nonetheless, makes me feel a bit of an underachiever at having made so little of an effort.
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