I've gone mad. I think about paint. all.the.time. I watch the leaves fall and think how I would mix those colors. A little crimson, burnt umber, and a touch of yellow. I watch my hubs speak and think that his skin tone looks purple-ish. It's the lighting, not that he's ill or anything. I'm just amazed at how the world looks different.
My first painting after workshop was a big one. I loved this photo so much, I thought about not doing it for fear that I wouldn't do it justice. Besides the fact that it's a portrait, which is already hard enough, she was dressed in the weirdest outfit. She had a winter hat with braids, a raincoat with polka dots and leopard print shoes on. But that's my girl. Fiercely independent.
I had a few oh crap moments in the process. The polka dots were killing me. But, I remembered what I had learned. I trusted the colors I mixed. I trusted my drawing. I laid it down.