When creativity
strikes, it takes a more lethal force than a ruptured oil well. You need an
outlet to get it out of your system-song writers, musicians, artists, you may
be well aware of this. Often, frustrating roadblocks do crop up, say, like the
dearth of materials. On such days, I take umbrage under discarded materials-
old card boards, paper, plastic sheets, wooden crates.
Thus, I found a long piece of plywood. Gleefully, I went on with process. It was slippery and the colours kept sliding off, even a background didn't look promising. Another artist would have just shrugged and kept going. Me? That's when my neighbor's son walked in-my very first live model. As any five year old, he kept fidgeting about for the minute he made history. You can find him, looking older, in the painting, if you search. The rest of the painting is just the process finding itself.
If you want to paint on plywood, feel free, but the material not for me. Okay, temporary appeasement for the creative veins-affirmative.
