i've always known framing was important to works of art that i'd acquired.
however, being in my sixties before i actually created pieces of my own, and
then taking a looooooooong time to realize i appreciated what i'd done: this was
another story.
so pleased is what i am since i have
finally framed and hung some of my own work.
an acceptance, yes, but more than that.
seeing. hard to
SEE my own. strange, that self-critical voice, it causes objectiveness to depart. you all know that.
it's exciting to walk past things i've created. the first little one greets me in the foyer. and the BIG PODS
finally at home at the top of the steps.....
and with the walk-bys, sometimes there's a touch of a memory that the making of the painting holds. the way the breeze felt that day i was outdoors and splashing on shellac. finding the pod that it all came from.
touchstones. personal and pleasing.
good memories, especially today, during the LAST big snow of the year.
