“Every now and then one paints a picture that seems to have opened a door and serves as a stepping stone to other things.”
― Pablo Picasso
When I was in high school, I used to paint. I liked it. I could lose my self in the scene I was working on and the colors I was using to bring emotion of definition to what I was painting. I wouldn’t call myself a Mary Cassatt. But I thought I did okay.
One of the things I have put on my bucket list was to take some painting classes. I wanted to have companionship of “kindred spirits”. I also knew that the act of painting, itself, wouldn’t set off a flare-up… I hope.
A wonderfully little kitschy local shop, Mr. Twitters’s, offered a two-hour painting class for $25 this past Thursday. I jumped at the opportunity.