a still life of a flawless fine china sugar and creamer set that was sitting along side a peeled tangerine. I sketched in the shapes with thin magenta paint but I was feeling a bit stiff and tense.
The sound of waves from the beach were beckoning me and my doggie was watching me from outside the glass doors. Begging. I said, “Well, heck! Let’s go to the beach!” So,
I grabbed a leash, her ball chucker and ball, and headed out for a walk.
As I was walking and throwing the ball into the water, I noticed the tide was out and there were thousands of broken shells on the sand. I began stuffing them into the pocket of my jeans..sand and all. Far be it from me to take along a plastic bag....oh no, not me...that would mean I was planning, thinking ahead....something I’m not exactly known for. (I flunked out of Girl Scouts. Go figure!)
I've always been more intrigued by broken shells than by perfect ones, or fine china for that matter. Perfection is something I’ve never quite been able to achieve. Broken shells remind me of authenticity...a sense of struggle, overcoming and survival. Broken shells must have stories to tell. I call them the sea’s relics and who knows, maybe they are as old as Mount Vesuvius. These shells have been weathered, smoothed down and reshaped by being tossed over and over against the ocean bottom. Weathering the storms of life are never very easy. Storms have a way of peeling away the superficial, cutting to the core and leaving you polished and authentic.
Anyway, once I got back to the house, I emptied my brimming pockets with little bits and pieces for a project later on, then went inside to finish today’s painting of that perfect fine china. The way it ended up didn’t exactly project the feeling of perfection but of warmth. But, I’ll let you decide on that. But here’s the finished project. Hope you enjoy.
Fine China, original oil, 12x12 gallery wrapped, ready to hang. Free shipping.
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