|LWR, September, 2015 (Winter Blues)|
Seen in this format, it needs tweaking
I chose a twenty four by twenty four gallery canvas, a fine one I had been saving. For what? The estate sale? I unwrapped it and propped it on the easel.
|Winter Blues sketch|
An hour and a half flew by as I angrily pummeled the poor, frazzled looking woman for being old, for being fragile, for having lost the last two months of summer, for the next dreaded winter that looms ahead, for her new fear of an end to all winters possibly being closer than anticipated?
The session was the best time I've had in a long time. I had painted my truth--not the truth in the mirror, but in the soul, in the moment. Not a pretty sight. Not decorative. Not saleable. But immediately uplifting.