If I was a painter…

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Colours seduce me, they do uncanny things to me. I was in pre school when I took to amity with colours, imbibing them with naked eyes. At the back of my mind, I always wanted to eat them to get more of them. Stupid, Isn’t it?
But I still do want to eat them, the thought of it makes me feel like I can taste something my eyes cannot complacently take in. And the smell of its rawness almost makes my heart flutter with sheer joy.

In grade 2, we got the most beautiful art teacher with classical approach towards art and specifically painting. She was absolutely beautiful with golden hair that cuddled with her outer thigh, the contours of her eyes marked by black kohl, and her pale thick skin shining like golden lilies. She was such a motherly figure that the comfort of her smell made me feel home. She was the first person to notice my love for colours and my inability to shape them into something beautiful.
Yes, I was a disaster at painting. I even considered eating paint once.

After 2 years of continuous and rigorous efforts to try to paint, I gave up on myself, and 2 years post that, she gave up on me too!
However, knowing about my love for painting, my mother took me to every painting exhibition she could easily secure passes to. And my failure took the best of me, every single time.

But to mine and my family’s surprise, my brother defied the ‘non-painter’ genes and turned out to be great at it, the right amount of colours with phenomenal siltation and his geometric ideas that ostensibly marked his master pieces. I always told him how much I envied him but he would promise me that he’d teach me. Everyone in the family was proud of my brother for acquiring skills that were beyond our collective reach. But as years passed by, he took to other important things in life and I took to writing. And my ‘non-writer’ family is equally proud of me now.

But what’s more?
My best friend who I met 4 years back also turned out to be a painter and I told her on one of our drunk nights about how I feel like eating colours and she told me she wanted to eat them too. My brother still paints sometimes but the zeal is gone. Even mom doesn’t take me to exhibitions anymore, instead, she buys me books.

But even after all this time, I wish I could paint. Colours still do unfathomable things to me. I still picture myself painting a landscape on the shores of red sea but I’ve been writing about landscapes and they work like magic. I can paint without using colours and brushes. But I think that’s what life is all about, some things are not attainable and you shouldn’t try so hard that you miss out on other beautiful things you’re capable of. I found my Eureka in writing and it is equally colourful.

And oh, this painting was made my me and my friends there :

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60 thoughts on “If I was a painter…

  1. I painted in oils some in high school…did some porfrait sketching in college, on my own. Never did properly learn color mixing—like I skipped over music theory and note reading because I “just wanted to sing”. Mom said I was an “Intuitive” painter….but that didn’t help with more complicagted and subtle subjects! I still have one or two of my college campus that are half-finished…and gathering dust. But…had my first poem published in High School in one of those Regional, and then the Natiional, anthologies so have found my particular niche, like ypou in writing (poetry). Come see!
    https://bythemightymumford.wordprerss.com/ (or) https://themarvelousmumford.wordpress.com/ . Check also the Archives of https://ourpoetrycorner.wordpress.com/ πŸ˜€

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    1. You are brilliant. I hadn’t read such brilliant poetry in a while.
      As far as art is concerned, you must have been great at it too!
      Sometimes we outgrow things that we once loved, but only to find something better in life. God has a better plan for all of us!
      Good luck. πŸ˜€

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      1. WELL…I’m brilliant because my highly-educated parents called me “son.”…but thank you for saying so, There WAS a extruded foam sculpture I did, looking like an EASTER ISLAND head that I wanted to take home..,.but the teacher wanted it for an art show, then it was lost. 😦 About 7-8 years agio I was writing limericks for THE PENTATETTE (unpaid) and would force my self to write about anything—editing afterward. Wasn’t that somewhere in your writing development, too?

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      2. Then we each just move on in whatever we are doing that seems to be working! Don’t know if I’ll get back to painting, sketching or foam sculpting (just that once)—my hands shake on their own! It’s still a matter for me of doing—consciously or unconsciously—whatever the Lord would have me do…including writing poetry! Don’t compare me with thee…it is wrong and not worth it. You are…and your blogging style—WORTH IT!!!!

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  2. I know what you mean about “tasting” the colors… when I really love something I want to “eat it up” . Loved this piece, and am looking forward to reading much more of your blog. thank you for reading my poem. I truly appreciate it! Michelle

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  3. Loved this line “some things are not attainable and you shouldn’t try so hard that you miss out on other beautiful things you’re capable of” ..very well said πŸ™‚ You can’t be a winner of every race πŸ™‚

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  4. I wish I could paint but unfortunately my artistic streak just does not exist. Never has and unfortunately never will. Colours though are different for me. In my minds eye I can see how they blend with each other and every colour has its own personality, meaning and place in the overall scheme of things. I try to remember that when using the camera. I admire the way you have told us your ‘painting’ history.

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  5. Eating paint? My goodness, do you remember those strawberry, blueberry and cherry-flavored markers teachers used to hand out in school to aid in our art assignments? The smells were so good that I wanted to eat them. It was crazy! Even now, if I get them, I’m all over them. Like I said, crazy!

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  6. Gave up painting after my sophomore year of highschool, finally realizing i had zero talent for it 😁. But its like you said, colors and painting have an amazing feel to it, we can’t help but admire

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  7. I too spend a great deal of time thinking about color. I surround myself in color and dress myself in rainbows. I do paint but not as easily as I write but I wouldn’t write anything if it weren’t for color. I don’t so much want to eat color as to drift in waves of color and be beautiful, life-brightening color.

    I very much enjoyed reading this piece on color and I like the hand-tree too.:0)

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  8. You have a very nice blog here. Sorry it took me so long to get here, but I am just now going through my old emails. I had 2500 emails so I decided I better go back and check the old ones.

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  9. What a great story your life in words
    That paints the page
    That smells of your color
    If I was you
    I would never give in
    For when there is passion
    There is always a way
    See you soon
    As always Sheldon

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  10. This post is incredibly vivid. I love your word imagery. I could feel words that aren’t even meant to be felt. You’re an incredible writer, I’ve been checking out your other posts too!

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  11. I tried to learn how to paint for the longest of time. But somehow it never worked out.
    But then, in the end, I realized that I already paint. Just only with words, instead of with colors.
    And I think you might be the same. Some people are better with words, and their pens, than with brushes and colors.
    Why not make your paintings with words?
    To me their both still a painting.
    Only one made of words, and the other made out of paint.

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