As a child, I was restless and constantly on the move. Whenever I got into trouble, my punishment was being sent to my grandmother.
The funny thing is, my grandmother was a self-taught artist.
She embroidered landscapes and flowers, wove rugs, and spent countless hours creating things with her hands. She would sit me down by the window and teach me embroidery. She insisted that both sides of the fabric had to be equally beautiful, with no knots, no shortcuts, and no mess on the back.
We would listen to the radio, drink tea, and stitch for hours.
At the time, I thought it was punishment.
Now I realize it was training.
People often tell me that I have extraordinary patience, and that my painting style is nearly impossible to replicate because it requires an immense amount of focus, precision, and endurance.
The truth is, those long hours in front of a canvas began long before I ever picked up a paintbrush.
They started by a window, with a cup of tea, a needle, and my grandmother 💕
#punishment #personal #artistlife #art #oilpainting
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