Change is good for the soul. And the soda machine.
I resist change with every fiber of my being. If it ain’t broke, why fix it. If it is broke, ignore it until it goes away. (or gets so huge you can’t ignore it, then give it away and let someone else deal with it.)
It’s not a perfect system, but it works. (Mostly). When I find something I like, I stick with it. Hair? If it worked for me in the ’70’s, it’ll work for me now. Clothes? Hey, if I’m not naked, it’s all good. (My beautiful, patient daughter took me clothes shopping once, (a bottle of wine and some Xanax made the trip quite enjoyable.) This leopard can change her shorts.
I learned how to paint with Windsor & Newton Artist Oil Paints. It’s what my instructor uses and his art is amazing. I love these paints and their bright, rich colors, their ease of use, and their ease of un-use. (Which is good because I make a lot of mistakes, or happy accidents, according to Bob Ross). I love everything about them. Well, sort of.
I’m not so crazy about the smell of mineral spirits. Even odorless mineral spirits are kind of odorly. I paint outdoors for nine months of the year (God bless the South) so for the most part, it is not a problem. But ’tis the season, and it’s just too cold to paint on the porch. Something has to change.
After painting indoors for a week, I started to notice a very painterly smell when I came home every day. I started to hold my breath every time my husband would light a cigarette. (He smokes indoors when I’m not home, he thinks I don’t notice). It was definitely time for a *gasp* change.
I Welcome Change, As Long as Nothing is Altered or Different
On one of my trips to Shangri-la (aka Jerry’s Artarama), it came to my attention that Winsor Newton carries a line of water-mixable oil paints. It’s like magic because everyone knows water and oil don’t mix. This could be the change I was looking for. So with much trepidation, I purchased all of my base colors. The Hope Diamond received less scrutiny than these tiny tubes of transition.
With great ceremony, I assembled my work area. I set aside my oily oils and mineral spirit container and poured a glass of water. (Then maybe a glass of wine, no sense getting rid of all the spirits) Then I put some in my brush washer. There’s something wonderful about opening a fresh tube of paint. It’s so clean and fresh and full of possibilities.
I proceeded to apply it to my palette. It looks like oil paint, it paints like oil paint, it covers my clothes and hands like oil paint. But unlike oil paint, it washes right off. It cleans up like acrylic but has the richness of oils. My house smells like…well let’s not get into that, (anyone who owns a dog will understand) let’s just say it doesn’t smell like mineral spirits. Huh. Go figure. I guess if it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it must be oil paint.
Well, I guess change isn’t so bad after all. No, wait, that’s a lie. Change is terrifying and uncomfortable. Change is the hardest thing to accept as a human being. But sometimes it’s worth it.
A little change never hurts, right?