Watercolor Is Hard

My Watercolor Painting (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Watercolor is a difficult artistic medium. My friend who tries so hard to teach me the finer points of painting with watercolor is fighting a losing battle. I am not now, nor have I ever had artistic inspiration. I love to view good painting; I even love to understand the finer points of it's creation, but I'm not able to create it.

The fluid lines my friend creates with the sweep of a brush become blobs in my hand. I had a problem with leaving the glaze alone to let it flow and develop on it's own. She assures me this is where you let the water do the work. Under her brush it develops interesting designs as it dries. Under mine, it just dries.

I'll stick to writing, sometimes poetry, but always with words and metaphors, never with brushes and paints. I do go to the class and learn something, but I have no illusions about my creations. They are mostly a study in what not to do. My friend is dedicated and helpful, and I can't let her work so hard without trying to reward her for her efforts. No, I'll never be a painter, but don't tell her I said so. She deserves to see my  best effort even though I know it useless. I love her for her optimism. She thinks she can find the artist in there somewhere and coax her to come out.

A Bad Week

A week ago today a friend died. I found it a little traumatic although I've only know her since I moved to "the home." She had lived here for quite a while and seemed better adjusted to the situation and the limitations than me. I'll miss her. She knew who everybody was and could help me know who got along with whom and where everyone was from and what they did before they moved here. I'm coming up on my first year anniversary, so I ought to be able to manage from here, but even with a year under my belt, I'll miss Judy laugh and her joy and her philosophy. 

Another friend had an accident and broke his leg. Fred is not a friend I talk to a lot because he cannot hear. Sometimes I write notes to him which relieves the tension of trying to make him hear. I often sit with him in silence because I don't want to embarrass him or frustrate him. He was a physicist and taught at Pan Am University. I would love to get him to expound on physics and hear his take on Hawking and Dark Matter. 

Tomorrow I will try to go to the hospital and sit with him for a while and let his daughter get a break. Today at the memorial for Judi I read some poetry. It helped me find meaning in the loss of my friend. I hope I find meaning in Fred's difficulty too. Maybe it will help relieve my guilt at feeling so helpless in the face of his need.