you call that art?

I was on the back patio one day working on some "art" for our dining room wall. My 6 year old son asked what I was doing. "I'm painting," I said. "Oh, Are you an Artist?" He asked. I had to stop and think....Am I an artist? Well, not in any formal sense, and not because I have been trained or educated in art, but here I sit in front of a "canvas", with a paint brush in hand, so I replied, "Why, Yes I am." He thought that was pretty cool, his mom is an ARTIST! Suddenly I had a job, a place in society. Not just his mom, I was something more.

But I am a fraud. I am no artist. I paint blocks of color on plywood I found in the garage, with left over house paint from our many home improvement projects over the years, because I am too cheap to buy real art. But there they hang proudly on the dining room wall for all to see. I forget they are even there till someone comes to the house for the first time and notices them. Well, how could you not...they are quite large.

(My dining room masterpieces. Please excuse the chandelier with the burned out light bulbs!)

We have a goal to have only art in our house that is done by people that we love. That they have some significance to us. I have tried my hand at art a few other times over the years. A couple of attempts hang on the wall, these are painted on actual canvases. But my attempts pale in comparison to the other art in our house, done by the real artists of the family. But such is my life; Jack of a few trades, Master of none. I'm sure I'll give this artist gig another try sometime soon...

Here is some of the art in our home.

(Our favorite piece from Grandma Mary. It hangs over our master bed.)

(Superman painted by Quinn's sister. It hangs in my son's room.)

(Quinn's water colors.)

(I painted this one for Quinn's birthday. It hangs in our kitchen.)

(My other attempt. It hangs in the hall.)