I have to keep my nails super short so they don't interfere with the creative process, and with the amount of paint I get on my nails just from working, it's difficult entertain the thought of purposely adding another layer of color on top of that. Besides, nail technicians scold me for how awful my hands look. I usually have oil paint wedged under my nails, cuts from the tools I carve with or crimson-stained fingers from the pomegranate juice I sometimes use as a natural dye.
That said, my hands are my best feature. They enable me to create whimsical, fantastical pieces, like a 3 x 4 feet pegasus soaring over an abstract sky or a delicate birch forest exploding with springtime blossoms.
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| In this Uncharted Journey; I Somehow Knew Our Paths Would Cross 11 x 14" Oil and mixed Media on Canvas Available here |
My hands are my livelihood, the way I communicate,
my life force.
I've been showing my work in art galleries for nearly 5 years now, and I get such a rush looking around and seeing all that my hands have brought to life. My energy flows thorugh them, whether they're tingly and numb from overuse or the veins are popping out, fresh from standing on them during my yoga practice. My hands may look kind of worn and older than my 32 years, but they are my tools, and to me, they're beautiful.
But, I will gladly go get a pedicure with you any time. :)
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