Giving Up

Every child is an artist.
The problem is how to remain
an artist once we grow up.
—Pablo Picasso

I signed up for an imaginary trip to Australia. No passport needed. No packing. No airport hassle. For six weeks we travel and paint—except at home.

After I signed up I received a list of items to bring—watercolors, brushes—even bug spray to lend a sense of accuracy to the trip.I envisioned myself slathered with bug spray and painting at a table in my kitchen. Our first stop—Sydney and no jet lag.

A series of photos taken around Sydney appeared in the first lesson. Unless you had your own photos or express permission from the photographer only the displayed photos were available.

No instructions save that you weren't wedded to the entire photo—any part of the picture could be used for a water color painting.

Before beginning I looked up some information about Sydney to bathe in the atmosphere of the city. Then I got stuck.

Because it's hot today, I selected a photo of undulating rocks in shades of brown and in the background waves and spindrift. That's where I became stymied.

After twenty minutes of attempting to paint waves with foam, I gave up. I don't know what I expected, but this was frustrating. Maybe I needed some instruction on how to paint waves as they released spray. Maybe I didn't fathom why I was painting from someone's photos?

I carried my paints down to the basement where I store my art supplies and thought of how I like art projects that only require a minimum of materials and very little clean-up.