Grandma's Paint ...

The legacy continues ...

I come from artists. Painters, to be exact. Both of my grandmothers and my grandpa on my dad’s side were talented artists. I’ve admired their talent my whole life.

My dad’s mom was the most prolific painter, selling her work to support herself. She loved to paint barns and pastoral scenes of country life. Which is ironic since she lived in suburban Los Angeles.

I remember my dad stopping the car many times on country roads to snap a photo of an interesting barn to send to his mom. We enjoyed her paintings on our walls growing up, and I have three hanging in my home now.

I’ve always been creative, but my mantra was, “I don’t draw or paint. That’s for real artists.” I don’t know if my grandma’s talent intimidated me, but until recently, stick figures were all I’d ever attempted.

A couple of years ago, I decided to learn to draw and paint (that’s a story for another post).

I found a wonderful teacher (Bertha), and over the past year or two, I’ve grown in my ability and in my belief that I can actually do it!

I think confidence is the biggest barrier to taking on an artistic discipline. I’m my worst critic. I have a vision in my mind when I begin a painting, but it’s rarely/never realized as I’ve imagined. I’ve had to learn to give myself grace and adjust my expectations.

I’ve hung one of my grandma’s paintings in my studio (spare bedroom) to inspire me. It does. Recently, my sister gave me a photo of her standing next to her art teacher’s car, which has a spare tire cover advertising his art business. It’s such a great image! I’ve hung it near her painting.

My brother recently surprised me with a gift. He brought me an old black zippered case. Inside was my grandmother’s watercolor paints. I gasped, broke out in applause, and I’m pretty sure I smothered him in a hug. In terms of watercolor, there’s a TON of paint in that small case. It’s all panned in what appears to be ice cube trays.

So to honor her, I painted a patriotic barn (or shed) with her paint. I’d like to think she’d appreciate my use of her paints, but I’d also welcome her critique. Oh, if only.

I LOVE painting. I LOVE drawing. I had no idea I would until I tried. I started painting when I was fifty-eight, proving that it’s never too late to learn something new.

What have you wanted to try? Have you done it? If not, why not?