I was just thinking , after reading an article about David Hockney, that I must enjoy something about painting.
It doesn’t always feel that way when I’m in the middle of a portrait and it just doesn’t look right , and I don’t know why.
Or I am painting lots and lots of little white houses and even more little windows and doors for days and days……
Or I am scared because I’m about to paint something completely different and I have no idea if I can do it.
Then I complete something and it looks great ….at least for a couple of days until I see little bits I could improve.
Or I smile at the person in a portrait because they feel alive.
Then sometimes I make a little dark corner of Pisticci pretty. That feels good.
Actually there are millions of times painting has made happy.
I’ve met so many people thanks to painting. Firstly at markets and then when they’ve come to my home.
Then it’s wonderful to walk into a bar or someone’s house and see my painting on the wall.
Or knowing that I painted part of the big mural featuring San Rocco in town.
I could go on and on and on.
I was just thinking about it when I wrote the title as today has been like most days here. I’ve been at home by myself.
First I finished the painting on the lampshade….luckily without getting any drips or dirty fingerprints on it. I covered all the bits I wasn’t painting with masking tape and paper.
It looks good and it’s now safely in a clear plastic bag.
Next I did a pencil drawing of two people from an old photo which I had managed to “improve” using an app I found by accident.
Then I painted the face of one of them. It’s only about 5cms , so I had to use my big magnifying glass on a stand.
It’s looking okay so far.
After that I went to the supermarket and back.
And that was it. But it was a good day.
With a pretty sunset to finish .