When I was married and my husband and I bought our first house, he asked me if I was going to fill up the walls with art like my mother, and of course I said yes.
I wish I had kept a record of all the art work I've done, if for no other reason than to see the change in styles or technique. I do have some photos, and I look at the pictures and can't remember where or what I did with it all.
When I moved, my daughter inherited a box of art work, supposedly to store for me. When she moved, she pulled the box out and hung what she liked. Sometimes I feel like her house is my personal gallery, and I feel very honored that she has hung so many pieces.
My son also has a number of my pieces hung, but more importantly, he has hung the pieces from my mother and grandfather that were stored at his place.
I did personal pieces for my daughter's girls last year,for their rooms when they moved to the new house. And that was the last art I managed to get done for almost a year.
I pulled a canvas out to do a painting for my grandson. He likes anything country, native, and is partial to wolves. I had something in mind, but that canvas has sat blank for almost a year. Painter's block, you might say.
A good friend once gave me some encouraging words I've never forgotten. It was at a time when I was struggling with my art after a long time away from it. I couldn't seem to do the same style as I'd done before. "Maybe that's not your style anymore, and you need to find your new style." Wise words, Jane, thanks.
I finished this piece for my grandson, though he hasn't seen it yet. Knowing I was going to try something for him, his sister chimed in that she wanted a painting for her room. "What do you want?" I asked, and she said Fairies.
So, the wolf is gone from my door and I'm in a fantasy fairy frame of mind. We'll have to see what happens.
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