The contractor was stopped dead in my living room staring at the floor. "What's that?" he said gesturing at my closed french easel. My guilty conscience clicked right in. I thought he was pointing at the little contraption I had made from a boosted a piece of the aluminum siding wrap he had left in my garage. For a while now, I had conjured in my mind this little shelf addition to my easel . When I saw the raw material sitting right there, I seized the opportunity.
I got my tin snips and pliers and set to work. O.K. so it's not perfect but it will do the trick.
This should make my plein air painting sessions a little more organized. Ideally this should fit right in the art box but my guilty confiscation of raw material did not allow time for measurement. The exstacy of a dream fulfilled.
Creativity got the best of me. Sometimes I just can't help myself. Painting is not all about the results, it's as much about the process.
My contractor didn't mention the little shelf but I felt he was glaring at it and waiting for an explanation. I remained silent. The truth is, I couldn't help myself.
I got my tin snips and pliers and set to work. O.K. so it's not perfect but it will do the trick.
This should make my plein air painting sessions a little more organized. Ideally this should fit right in the art box but my guilty confiscation of raw material did not allow time for measurement. The exstacy of a dream fulfilled.
Creativity got the best of me. Sometimes I just can't help myself. Painting is not all about the results, it's as much about the process.
My contractor didn't mention the little shelf but I felt he was glaring at it and waiting for an explanation. I remained silent. The truth is, I couldn't help myself.
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