A family that oil paints together...

...moves on to acrylics after a slew of brushes get ruined.

What did you expect? I was only five.

I still have my first (and by my recollection, only) oil painting. My brother's is still around somewhere too. I remember that day as being the four of us around the kitchen table painting, but either mom and dad didn't save theirs or I'm remembering it wrong. If the latter, I'm not overly concerned with the truth, because it's a nice memory.


What I like so much about this effort is that I still recall what I was trying to accomplish. Rather than attempting to recreate an image from my mind like in later years, I set out to paint a concept. The painting is a fragment of a story, a piece of the beginning which seemed to me essential to portraying the ultimate idea.

At the time, I wasn't satisfied with the outcome, but mom made me feel better by giving my painting a name. Now I like its abstraction because I know what it represents.

Any guesses? Scholiast, surely you've had lots of practice identifying youthful creations.

One year ago at TTaT: The Road is my Favorite Place: Day 1
Technorati tags: oil painting, abstraction