An old biker named PJ with "a heart made out of rubber bands" was the first person who ever gave me oil paints. I was just starting school, real school, not high school. PJ was my ex-boyfriend's family friend. He was an artist too, but he was ill. Apparently you can't do a shit ton of crystal meth for many years without repercussions.
"I'm dating a colored girl." She was Asian, like me. Bikers in Oakland think they're funny. They can be. I liked PJ. I didn't care if he did meth, yelled a lot and needed care. He had something more about him, that I can't put my finger on. He had soul. If it was from being ill, or from having a great sense of humor, or having a hard life, I don't know, I never will. He passed away not long after he gave me the paints. I don't know why he gave me the paints, but I played with them in the bedroom where I was staying. It was a nice house with decent carpet. The carpet didn't deserve the oopsie; I should have been working outside. PJ didn't tell me how to use them, he just said, "These are for you, Doll." I accidentally dropped the painting wet side down, on the carpet. Dang. I was probably 20 or 21 years old. I could see my daughter doing that now. I wont get mad if she does. It was weak, really, just a practice piece that looked like an aboriginal species painted it on a rock fifty thousand years ago. The drop probably improved the work. But that piece sat in my closet for four months and still wasn't dry. I couldn't believe it, every time I poked it with my fingers. Why didn't it dry? I struggled with it. I switched to acrylics. I used them happily for 20 years. Oil paints are awesome and brilliant. I saw a piece at the Crocker Museum that was 400 years old and it looked like it was painted yesterday. The more I delve into the art community the more I realized that most the artists that I admire use oil paints. I'm trying to evolve, here. I asked my friend, Andrew Hindman, how he creates the most beautiful photo realistic river images, and of course he uses oil. Does the wet time drives him mad? Of course not. He likes it, as you can rework parts from yesterday. Uhg. His work is great. See for yourself. Google him. Well, I just dug out the oil paints that PJ gave me. They're still good. They've got to be twenty or thirty years old. I just smooshed them on a butcher board, and I'm going to work on a piece I have been wanting to do since I was about the age when PJ originally gave me the paint. In the 90's. It's time I gave it another try. I lost my acyrlics and I don't feel like looking for them right now. I also just illustrated a book using watercolors (another long story). I need something new in my life. I'm going to depict another man that gave me advice that I met in a dream. He was a wise, old medicine man, and he told me how to interact with the supernatural. He may be my spirit guide. Lucky me. I'll keep plugging along. Maybe I'll do oil in the daylight and watercolor in the evening until I find my acrylic stash. Everything happens for a reason. This one is for PJ, though. Hope your rubber band heart is healed now that you're on the other side. And thank you.
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July 2023
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