I’ve been opening up paints for over 25 years and what I hadn’t considered until recently is that they, in fact, have also been opening me. Testing my skill, my endurance, my ability to accept flaws: in my painting and in myself as a human.

After all this time, there is a comfort in the simple exercise of twisting off the paint cap. There’s a will, an intent to continue. Yet I still remember how unfamiliar and tentative I felt the first time I ever opened a tube of paint. I had no idea the power it would have over me. How it would cause a reaction in me. How the tube of paint once on the canvas would test me—what would I do with that Cobalt Bue? How does my colour make you feel? it would silently ask. And that

In case you didn’t know, I’m an artist. It’s not something I’ve talked about here in any depth, until now.

My journey began with drawing and painting classes when my kids were in school. It’s been quite the journey; both in length of time and lessons I’ve learned along the way. I’ve shared a few images of my paintings here. I will share more in this post and part II to come.