I'm hearing voices!

So there I was, happily slapping oil paint on a fresh canvas, minding my own business, when what did I hear but tiny little giggles coming from under my #7 sable paintbrush! I swore I heard little voices shouting, “Thank you. Thank you!” 

I supposed that the tiny oil paint people were pleased they were being mixed up on my pallet, after so many months cooped up in their tubes. 

Oh, how glorious it must be for those paints to see each other again! As I mentioned in my last blog, I haven't been using oils for awhile, and I’m sure they are tired of containment - remaining a pure color, never able to mix together, and no change in viscosity. It must be torture. Paints are made to be used! Beautiful things happen when they are blended and mixed. 

Imagine the rapture of Yellow Ochre and Sap Green when they are blended together to create the color of newly emerged spring grass! What beauty is created when dark Burnt Umber is paired with its sibling, Burnt Sienna, to replicate the color of leftover autumn leaves on an oak tree that has survived another long, cold winter. Pthalo Blue has been patiently waiting for Titanium White to come along and together build a powerful, summer sky.

While the work on my canvas is coming together in an orderly fashion, my pallet is gradually turning into a circus with the blends, drips and smears of so many hues!  It must be delightful, down there on the surface, as the integration takes place. A little bit of linseed oil is all that is needed to loosen up the conversations between the Cobalts and the Ultramarines. (They haven’t even seen the light of day since meeting in a painting of Split Rock Lighthouse a couple of years ago.) Larger than the others, a huge glob of white paint anchors the center, yet it is nearly useless by itself and begs for involvement with every other color on the pallet. The Ceruleans, the Chromiums, the Cadmiums - everyone is clamoring for a relationship!

As the transfer of color takes place, I can almost hear the oil paint squealing with excitement and joy; the short distance from pallet to canvas is a roller coaster of anticipation.

With every stroke of the brush, or swipe of the pallet knife, I’m sure that I am hearing cheers and salutations from the many colors as they are introduced once again to each other. 

“Where have you been?” 

“Good to see you!” 

There are hugs and air kisses. It’s a downright orgy happening at the microscopic level! Acquaintances are renewed, partnerships solidified, relationships consummated and mysteries solved. Everything is right with the world again as my beloved oils are being used.

And then I start to wonder. Am I hallucinating these colorful fantasies because I love my oil paints so dearly? Is my crazy imagination playing tricks on me? Am I going completely and totally BONKERS?

Maybe so.  But if that’s the case, I need to get some earplugs, because the screams coming from my jealous acrylics are deafening!