About fifty years ago I was painter, sculptor, and art teacher. As time went by, other things took priority in my life and my few periodic attempts at drawing and painting were met with muted praise and occasional, deserved, derision.

Some family members, though, never stopped encouraging me to keep on drawing and painting. My daughter-in-law, Julie, invited me to go to, and joined me in, some painting classes a few years back, and that lit a new spark. More recently Jamie, my younger child, and I started to exchange a sketch book every few weeks. We both draw or paint something random and then send it back. We don’t comment, we just create.

Before I moved to Nanaimo, I bought a large used wooden easel with the intent to set it somewhere on the balcony or by a window to create huge masterpieces on canvas. However, it didn’t take long for me to remember that painting is messy and probably would not be well-received by my landlords who had just installed new carpet. Also, masterpieces are definitely a few years in my future.

Undaunted, I bought an L-shaped corner desk, put it in the unused dining room, and called it my creative space. I also bought one of those plastic under-desk mats that protect wood flooring from wheeled chairs. It works just as well as a carpet protector.

Since then, I have tentatively begun to paint again. Initially, I took an online watercolour painting course, and produced … well, let’s just say I have neither the talent nor the temperament for watercolour painting.

In my storage closet, though, I have lots of painting alternatives. My family has gifted me oil paints, acrylic paints, brushes, and all sorts of other necessary paraphernalia. I have no excuses. So, I brought out the acrylics and began to try something else; painting images inspired by some of my photos.

Here are my first few results. I know they are imperfect, but I’m perfectly OK with that. Progress is definitely being made, and I feel as though some of my old skills may be coming back.