I Got Paintings On My Mind

Old home week continues.

Bet you didn't know that when I was seven years old, my dad discovered my artistic talents, such as they were/are: he found me drawing Pluto (the Disney dog, not the planet) from an ad for an Art College in the TV guide. “Can you draw me?” Remember those?

Anyway, my parents, being no other than who they are, found a weekly art class for me. It was with Mrs. Hughes, a few miles over the mountain range near us. It went from 4pm to 6pm every Wednesday. There were from 3 to 7 students in the class. I learned basic color theory—something that equipped me to confidently disagree with something one of my high school teachers was trying to pass off as fact—as well as spatial theory and a host of different media (all quite analog).

Anyhoo, the penultimate goal was to apply all the theory and past experiences with tempera paints, watercolors, pastels (oil- and water-based) to creating oil paintings. She had genres of “compulsories” to paint, and after that, the end of the road: painting or drawing whatever you wanted, with help from her.

So I went on to paint a bunch of things, some of which—but only some, because Marie will state flatly what she likes and doesn't like—hang in the living room of my folks' house. I've snapped a few images of the paintings, which were completed by me at ages, oh, 14 through, say, 16.

Be gentle, gentle readers. (click for larger)

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