Everyone asks me: how long have you been painting? The answer? It’s complicated.
I’ve been painting in my dreams since I was about 5 years old. Colors swirling, flowing together; turquoise, light, dark, green, and red-ish blues watering into each other with silver and gold linings. That was a recurring dream for years and years and years.
When did I actually put paint to paper? Probably in elementary school, like most of us, but of that I have absolutely zero memories.
Once in middle school I painted florals on glass. My mother—like many mothers (!) thought it was a masterpiece.
Once in high school I decided to take an art class: theory after theory after assignment after assignment. Two weeks later I dropped the class.
Once in college I took an art course. The instructor placed a white sheet over a varied-shaped pedestal, then lit it. That was instructive. Not fun. Then he told us to go outside and paint. I laid on my back in the quad at UC Davis and painted all the trees coming together in perspective. That was fun. He told me I had no talent: none what-so-ever. I dropped the course.
And then I taught—not art—for thirty years. No painting. Lots of dreaming. The same recurring childhood dream, but the colors regularly changed! The cool colors—I woke up relaxed; the warm colors—I felt frantic all day.
And here I am, painting. Still dreaming. I’ve been dreaming painting for 65+ years is the answer, if you think dreaming is painting!
Next? What would YOU like to know?