Skip to main content

YouTube and the curse of beginner's luck

    Long before I heard George W. Bush discuss how painting had changed his life, I bought several stretched canvases at Michael's for 70% off.  I already had a basic starting kit of acrylic paints and decent brushes, sponges and stuff. So, I set everything up in my son's old room last week and decided to give the visual arts a try. (I had taken an all-day watercolor class last year and had learned many tips, including watercolor is probably not the best medium for a beginner.)
    This time, I decided to attend the YouTube School of Painting, dialed up this instructional video on how to paint birch trees with a palette knife and basically did the old monkey-see-monkey-do routine.  Five hours later, give or take, I had a painting good enough to hang anywhere....in my daughter's apartment, that is. 
My first painting.
   Motivated by her willingness to accept it and my husband's raves at my obvious God-given talent, I eagerly choose the next piece to, well, copy. This one, found on Pinterest....

  I don't need no stinking video, I thought. So, last Thursday, I went to my makeshift studio, turned on some soothing tunes, brought up the photo on my iPad and fearlessly applied paint to canvas. An hour later, I ran screaming to the kitchen for a heaping helping of comfort carbs, leaving this behind upstairs.... 
I couldn't even get the sky right!
I shall return to it some day this week, hopefully, with a huge jar of gesso and a new YouTube video. 

Did I mention George W. Bush had a private teacher? 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I'll be back after these messages

Boy, I thought I'd never see the old blog again after the whirlwind of life I've had - and am still having - this fall.  Thanks for not giving up on me.
First, the wedding in late October came off with only one hitch. (Don't get me started on over-extended wedding planners.) I ended up cobbling an outfit together from Chico's in taupe (my spin on the mother-of-the-groom mandate: Wear beige and keep your mouth shut), threw on a bunch of pearls and an autumnal pashmina, and did my own hair. Boom! Done. The beautiful Sunday evening wedding in the country culminated a week-long string of activities I have come to call Burning Man East due to the predominance of bonfires at various celebrations. Big fun, big exhaustion.
Three days after the newlyweds returned to Brooklyn, my son summoned the hubs to Game 5 of the World Series in Queens (in which the home team was playing the Mets.) The kid flew his old man to NYC,  bought tickets for themselves and two others, and put him u…

Sabi: Helping your medicine cabinet look hip

I've always said that the companies who figure out how to make aging cool will win baby boomers' hearts in the end (or, better yet, a decade or two before the end.) The stakes are high. There are 78 million of us and gazillions of dollars to be made on our inevitable decline. Enter Sabi. With a mission "....to create products that are intuitively and beautifully designed in order to infuse life’s daily rituals with delight," Sabi boasts that their products "marry superb functionality, simplicity, and aesthetics to make the most mundane to-dos – from taking your daily vitamins to taking out the trash – more enjoyable." I received this bevy of review samples in the mail yesterday: pill folio (aka: 'pill organizer'), dispenser, chopper, crusher and holster. I have to admit, I like the look - sleek, simple and utilitarian....although two of my friends have said they'd need 3 pill folios to hold all their supplements. (Sigh.) Still, I give it two…

Gray hair: A luxury anyone can afford.

I got one of those back-handed compliments on my gray hair from a stranger today: "I wish I could do it. But, I'm afraid of looking old....oh, gawd....but YOURS looks great... really!!" 
    No harm, no foul. It's happened before.
    Charla Krupp, author of "How Not to Look Old," once said, "it's such a luxury to be able to go gray. Because it is an aging look, and it means that you don't care about people knowing your age." 
    She was probably right. Thankfully, I've never been shy about stating my age - it's 56, for the record - or asking others their number, especially when playing 'Who do you know?' The gentler, albeit sneakier, way is asking the year they graduated high school, but sometimes I forget and just blurt it out, often taking people aback.
      But, does it bother me? The looking older part, I mean?
      No. But, admittedly, I'm married. I'm not in the meat market, the job market, or any othe…