For the first time in weeks, I have had the wherewithal to paint. These past few months have been rather nuts, and the mental space to focus on the simple pleasure of painting has not been mine to enjoy.
This morning, I sat down under the big umbrella in the back yard, pulled out my iPad, and took a few pictures of some low-growing crepe myrtle branches and flowers. A water brush, a sketch book, and no expectations.
Parts are good – parts not so good – contrast is lacking – but I am feeling pleasantly surprised about this small sketch.
It’s easier to paint with a messed up hand than it is to type or write. Looking at my drawing / painting of yesterday, this morning I decided to paint it, no lines, no preliminary whatevers – just a direct paint, working wet and dry.
Back to work with a messed up wrist . . . wasn’t bad. After work, the sun was still out. In our yard, we have a beautiful vase-shaped crepe myrtle tree. It is sending out the first leaves of the season. I sketched this at sunset, trying to catch the complex interweaving of the branches and the delicate greens of the baby leaves at the tips of the smallest branches.