When I was in school, art class was my reprieve from the day. Some days I lived for that hour of freedom to breath and create. I remember with love and appreciation my teachers over the years who introduced me to crayons, ink, pastels, clay, and paint. Oh, paint. I have loved painting as long as I can remember. And I loved those classes for the opportunity they gave me to play. Many years since then have passed with me feeling like there was no time for painting. Work, chores, duties, bleah. Now when I pick up a brush, I feel like I'm picking up where I left off. I feel like a child.
I have found the same love, sanctuary, and play in fiber. Too bad they never had a loom set up in my high school art department. I have loved every skein, every quirky piece, every random creation that I have made. This is a good medium for me right now. I love the process and I love the outcome. LOVE it.