For several months, while I was furiously engaged in paper cutting, my acrylic paints languished, untouched. How could I abandon my beloved pigments? Experimentation is par for the course in any artistic undertaking. But the worst part was thinking that I might never return to acrylics.
I came back to my original medium by way of murals in my house: a rainforest in the powder room; the Alps in the stairwell leading to my husband’s man cave; Lake Como at the top of the stairs.
What a thrill! Entire walls to play with–no rules, no restrictions.
The murals were a delightful distraction. Physically more demanding than the usual 16 x 20 format. So onwards to smaller, eye-level designs–minimalist sketches of animals in the wild.
Your guess is as good as mine. I have been called unpredictable. I take no offense. I am predictably unpredictable, even to myself.