Last week, I joined Mom’s art class, mainly to prevent her from drinking the paint. I began by giving each of the ladies a gentle neck massage, eliciting groans of ecstasy. As I went around the table, I began singing “Heaven, I’m in Heaven” and they all joined in. Pretty wonderful.
The model on the table was bare winter branches on a blue cloth. I actually think Mom’s painting is more interesting than mine, but then Mom paints without editing and I am all too aware of what I am doing.
I showed her the painting today and I think she agreed with me. She liked hers and totally ignored mine.