Although I generally like the way I look, aging and all, I couldn’t stand staring into my face every time I clicked on my blog’s homepage. And then it repeated on all the other pages! It was too much. After tinkering with WordPress for quite some time, I gave up and posted a sample of my pallet art, which is now plastered across all the pages but is infinitely more pleasing to my eye.
Above is Number 32. This time I experimented with the paint and went with something less than opaque. Also, peace! I mean, why can’t we have nice things? I thought I would rotate them as I create new pieces.
There was a guy at work, George, who thought he was all that and a bag of chips. Rising gloriously from behind his desk was a giant and quite excellent painting of his own work, and I thought a guy who would do that has an ego that can’t be killed with a stake through the heart. I actually have a wobbly ego, but art makes me feel good, so I kind of get where he was coming from. Creating art gives you a sense of validation you may not find on the job or in the mirror.
I’m grateful to have discovered artistic passion in retirement. I’m such a beginner, but I confess that recently I got a little cocky and purchased fancy paper and sketching pencils to see if I could broaden my horizons. I’m glad I did it, because I learned that sketching can be fun and helps me with designs for my woodburning art, but it’s the wood that keeps me coming back.
While I’m no great artist, I find joy in taking scraps someone tossed and transforming them into something else. Anything I do to them is an improvement, so I can just let it rip. I have quite a collection now, and my house is like the Island of Misfit Pallets. In a way, we have rescued each other.
My father was a creative dabbler who was always trying to make a buck and repeatedly failed at various entrepreneurial ventures. From importing jewelry to making metal replicas of social security cards, they all flopped. I find it interesting he was most successful at rescuing paper scraps from his job in a bindery and making scratch pads, which he sold at swap meets in Southern California.
Sometimes it’s right there in front of you.
Donna Pekar is an aging badass (for real) who lives in California and writes Retirement Confidential.
