Sixty-something woman shares ruminations as she plys the latter third of her life with the caveat that age entitles her to be absolutely outrageous whenever possible.
"We Three"
Friday, September 10, 2010
And then I did this...
After long time, no paint, I laid a palette of acrylics, my arch enemy. But I had a bunch left from those academic classes that fret so over toxicity in oils, and a friend gifted me with a basic set, and what can I say, I am part Scottish, you know, and kind of wanted to use them up. This is my attempt to get them to work like oils. Not happening as well as I would like, but the effect is loose and kind of eschisse, or sketchy, ala Monet. In fact, I couldn't get oils to do THIS at all. Perhaps this is a good thing! It was fun, and probably is not done yet, but then, what ever is? If I'm vertical, nothing.
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2 comments:
OOOHHHH! What a nice piece! Are you really as old as you say you are? I'm just wondering. When I tell people how old I am (I am not shy about that!), they always give me odd looks. I don't know what to make of that. Any clues?
Yes, I really am old, 66 and counting. And I am happy to say I don't feel it, or look it most of the time. It's just my genetics, I think. Lucky to be swimming in the deep end of the gene pool. Thanks for the comment, dear woman.
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