Yesterday a friend asked me why I had never used this painting in some of my stories because she was sure it would have fitted many of them. In fact I was sure I had but it may have been when I started blogging and had no one but myself reading them. I thought nothing of that; I am always humbled and amazed that so many people take the time to read and to comment on my scribbling.
She remembers clearly the day I painted these hands and put them on my website. I can also remember that day very clearly. I was painting a pastel that day, a seascape. It was one of those atmospheric evening seascapes I so love painting. There is something so calming about walking a beach late at night with the moonlight catching the waves. My hands were covered in black and Prussian blue pastel. Before I washed them I looked and studied them. I felt pleased that these hands sometimes brought much pleasure in what they allowed me to create. I do not know what became me, but the next thing I knew I had another bit of pastel paper on the easel and I was painting my hands.
I have strange little fingers, they are crooked. You do not notice this in the painting. Did I do that on purpose? I do not know. My daughter has the same little fingers. We often joke about the fact there would be no need ever for DNA checks to prove paternity.
The painting was done on black pastel paper. I called it the gift, because I feel so fortunate to be able to express myself when words are not enough.
I am sure I have written before this painting was bought by a blind friend because his partner said it spoke to her on so many levels. One day soon Andy and I have agreed that he will sit in front of an easel and together we will attempt to put on paper some of his inner pictures.
If some of those who read my blog can remember seeing this before I apologise but for my friend, as promised, I post it again. The Gift.
This blog is linked to my other where this artwork was used:- The Princess and her Tail