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Though not seen in the picture, the table was in front of us. Look at my busy, blurry hands. |
Watching this reminds me of my own early experiences with painting. GramGram (my paternal grandmother) would cover her table in newsprint and then give me a cup of water with a paintbrush. I would start at one end of her table and (according to her) work my way to the other side. By the time I got to the other end, the places I had first painted were dry and I'd work my way across again. And again. And again. Sometimes I flooded. Sometimes I "flourished"...at least I think I must have. My brush stroke has a strong natural pull that must have started somewhere. Color was not introduced to this process until I was quite a bit older. Thank you, GramGram for instinctively knowing what I needed.
1 comment:
Such a precious picture, Mel!
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