I used to paint a lot when I was a child. We did not take art lessons at school, there were no art supplies at home. My mother used to give us the equivalent to £1 a week in Emirates currency, and I saved enough to buy myself a set of acrylic paints.
Then, every morning, I would take myself on to the balcony of the flat my father rented for twenty one years, and set myself up on the dark green tiles. It was sunrise, so the coolness of the desert night wafted in on the breeze. When the sun rose, the heat would set in, and I would be forced indoors. But in that pinkish orange glow that heralds a new day, I would sit and paint.
Oh, I fancied myself a real artist. I imagined such masterpieces would flow from my brush.
In truth, it was just exploration. An affinity I had for art which I poked and prodded until my fingers began to feel accustomed to the brush, and shapes began to take form. The passion soon waned. Or else other things took precedence. Like exams, keeping up with peers, outings… an eventual move across the globe to another country…
Anyway. Recently I bought my son a set of kids’ watercolours. A very simple set. You dip your brush into some water, then dip it into a disk of colour, set amongst 20 other disks. Cost me £5. We sit everyday at around 3pm and do some painting. Baby has a nap, and we have ‘quiet time’.
Anyway. I love art. So I enjoy myself thoroughly.
This is what I came up with today! It’s amateurish, but I am proud of my amateur work, and I enjoyed painting it.