no beauty could have come from me

i love color.

i prefer not to use paint straight from the tube, something a design teacher has strongly embedded in me. i love the quest for just the right combination of colors and have wasted a lot of paint in pursuit of these certain aesthetics. either i keep needing to add different colors that compound to unnecessary amounts. or because i've watched my attempts dissolve into murky browns.
the evolution of mixing paint is beautiful to watch, as either one color slowly takes over another or together compromise on something in the middle. within seconds the two colors from different worlds have made something beautiful and fresh, and what i find amazing is the limitless possibilities of different shades and hues. really. there are billions of steps to get from just one shade of green to one shade of blue. and then billions shades of both green and blue. that equals a hecka lot of color possibilities friend.

let it be known that i do not allocate this love for color to neons and pastels. i love deep rich hues. jewel tones. and even more so, i love enriching a color by supplementing it with another. complementary colors are intended to do this, which accounts for my love. i wont try to go to great lengths to describe the colors. paint companies are so good at capturing a color with a name. i really enjoy, too much probably, going to home depot and looking at samples. but lately i'm enamored with deep blues paired with bright oranges, windsor haze and vintage orange; and deep purples accompanying mustard yellows, meadow flower and bee pollen.


i've forced myself to start painting for at least 15 minutes before i go to bed for the past couple weeks. first i was obligatory working on long expected paintings for my mom, but other than that, nothing extraordinary or tangible has come out of it. but its a great discipline that is sure to produce something if kept up.

the most vital thing for me through this is allowing myself to mess up.

i am so paralyzed to even touch a canvas because i don't know what the result will be. my creativity therefore remains stagnate. ideas aren't even given a chance. colors are confined to their own paint tubes. i expect something to magically appear the moment i start, and want to give up when it inevitably doesn't. i get overwhelmed by the fact that someone else will see it and judge it, so it has to be beautiful. perfect. instantly.

nay nay fair maid. in my opinion beauty in its best form results in the passing of time. best example being nature. and the beauty and wisdom of wrinkles. its been tested. taught. worked. reworked. critiqued.

over and over i've been reminded in transcribing exodus, that god's timing is often not in line with ours. his ways are not our ways. thoughts not our thoughts. i digress.

my favorite paintings are ones that have countless amounts of layers. ones that have been worked. you can see in certain paintings that the artist literally poured themselves into it. attacking the canvas. revealing brushstrokes underneath. under drawings. scratching at the surface. i admire them.


i set out just to say that i'm currently obsessed with burgundy and mustard. and wind up with this.