You'd think with the amount of paid education one can throw at a artist/designer, oils would have been tackled along the way. If you don't count the tulip socks dancing in the bathroom, this will be a first. Clueless and intimimated I signed up for an oil class. Once reference materials were given the green light, supply list purchased, armed with brushes, the canvas did what it does best—it basked in all its white gessoed glory.
Instruction was to last a mere six weeks, or was it eight? Alas, the Christmas gift for hubby, met a birthday, father's day and anniversary before it met with an autograph. Having wrestled with the layers and light, reality versus intent, realism versus non objective experience—part of the artistic soul stands wounded, part leaps.