Dear readers,
There is a certain joy in finding something we thought we’d lost or had stolen, whether it be a watch or ring or CD or a book; something of great sentimental value and precious. We don’t know how or where we misplaced it, but it gives enormous guilt and grief and nerves. The relief in finding it is so intense that a smile wider than you thought your face could manage appears.
Well, this is no such situation. I simply lifted some papers while doing some spring cleaning and I came across a little pad of postcards which I had been doing some watercolour paintings on in the mid months of 2023. It was a gift from my mother for the Christmas of 2022, a travel pack of watercolours, a wonderful tool for art therapy (see my blog post: Why Do I Doodle?). I knew it was there all along they were there, but I didn’t really know what to do with it.
I don’t want to give myself a too loud pat on the back, but I’m kind of pleased with what came out of my rather inexperienced and primitive watercolour painting skills. They are of everything and nothing, some based on people I know, on the shades of night and Tegucigalpa, the smog created in 2023 by the forest fires which surround the city. The smog is still there in 2024. Some things never change, including the scattered papers in my room. One definite constant: my mother’s gift.
Enjoy. I know that I enjoyed painting them, on the balcony of where I currently live, sometimes aided by a cup of rum, whiskey or beer, a social lubricant, as well as an artistic one. Intoxins: do your thing.
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