Wednesday, October 21, 2015

tah dah


        One Friday, October 9th, he saw my painting chair in the yard and went to sit in it. Right next to an empty easel. He announced to me he wanted to paint. That day, while I was watching him, we went in the house and drew with what I called "dried paint." We drew with oil cray pas on paper. Those handle in a softer way than crayons do. That solution worked on that day.
        The next Wednesday, October 14th, I was watching him at our house after school got out. The same request came out of his mouth: "I want to paint." What to do?
        He followed me to my storage shed. I pulled out the paint kit and the paint supplies in the knapsack. On our way down to the easel, I showed him a weathered board by our tomatoes. Did he think he can pick it up? He tried. Oh yes, he told me. I told him to stop and take breaks if he needed to. He met me by the cloth camp chair, where I usually work from. I offered him a wood stump to sit on. He insisted he wanted to sit on the chair.

 
Above: Water Can, Spritz Bottle

    I showed him what knobs to twist. He opened the palette box. The clothespin on the side, the empty plastic coffee can in a fashioned orange netting sling, this is what he poured water in. Not just a bit, but full up to the brim.  From the supply pack I pulled out three tubes, Bright Blue, Titanium White, and Dioxazine Purple. He worked from the three dabs on his palette. We talked about being gentle with the paint brushes. I rolled open my array of used and worn brushes and he picked out a couple.
    When it came time to clean off the glass palette, we went back into the house to get a couple paper towels from the kitchen. I grabbed my camera. Back outside, I showed him how to spritz the paint with a mist from the pump bottle. Then, I prompted him to wipe up off the mooshed watery paint. He did. The second round of paint dabs were Cadmium Red Light, Titanium White, and Alizerin Crimson. And he carefully squeezed the tubes out. Not too much.

    Some how it all worked out. Him dabbing paint. Swishing out the brushes in the water, even giving it a little shake toward the ground.

A purple heart and  "J-a-n" for his Jan Jan. My wife, his art teacher, at school.

The next day my wife asked me whether he stuck out his tongue in concentration. The answer: yes he did. It must run in the family.
Ha.

 ABOVE, FAN BRUSH.

     He had picked out a fan brush, loaded it up with red paint, and smooshing it into the wood panel. Well, I talked to him about this special kind of brush. Even as he grabbed the bristles with his palm and tried to squeeze the wide spread out bristles into a tight bunch, pinching them together. Aaugh! This kind of brush can make super thin lines. We treat it gentle. Then, I coaxed him to make the thinnest lines he could. And he tried. See next photo.

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One minute video. That thing about sunlight in your eyes when you paint.

Blocking the sunlight out, he signs his name at the top.

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When it was all done and the paint kit cleaned up, I folded the tripod with the paint kit on it and asked if he to could carry it back. He figured it out. He took many breaks but he carried it back to the shed. Ownership. Very cool.

24 by 20 inches,
acrylic on panel 


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