paint by number

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A blank Page. I've recently been facing lots of blank pages in my life - this blog, the final filler pages in books, layouts waiting to be finalized and put together. And most noticeable has been the watercolor paper. Waiting - for water. And color.

It's been a challenge to step out into the world of painting. For more than half my life, I thought I was a) not creative and b) certainly no artist. Lo, and Behold, I am c) all of the above. How I fell into a college major that by necessity involved c) all of the above still remains somewhat of a mystery to me.

More than a year ago, my father gave me watercolors, brushes, and a watercolor pad as birthday gifts. I brought out the paper, put out my colors and tried to paint... Something. It looked like a bad paint by number. I was unimpressed with the results, and put the paints away for another day. My birthday rolled around, yet again. I asked my dad if he would teach me to paint with the tools he gave me so long ago. I went to his house. We got out the paint palette. I opened it up, and found moldy bits of paint. I was disgusted, on a variety of levels. I could see how dedicated I had not been to painting by the quantity and assortment of fuzziness in the palette. It seems though, that mold isn't the end of the world. You just wash it off. It was pretty funny, though. My dad, the master artist, had a good laugh.

He challenged me to take a risk. "Go buy lots of paper," he said. He suggested that if I have a lot of paper on hand, I won't be so afraid about wasting paper. The nature of painting, is that not all are masterpieces. It'll take lots of practice before I'm comfortable with the tools, before I find my personal style.

Today, I received a pile of paper, courtesy our friendly FedEx driver. I broke out the paper, taped it on the board. I looked at the white space, the blankness, waiting to be filled.

I walked away.