As I wait on my faux instapot, feeling guilty that I’m not exercising.
I notice one of my dad’s handmade frames with a painting I did a did a long time ago. So long that I don’t even remember painting it. If you look around the house, you’ll see the many handmade frames he built. Many holding my paintings I did when I was young.
This is the painting I don’t remember painting but I’m sure I did it because it reminds me of Grandpa Nakamura.
Another frame my dad made on a painting from a foundation color class, learning how to work in grays from Two Callas by Imogen Cunningham 1925.
A couple more frames made by my dad. I think all of the frames were made out of redwood to match the wood of the house. He was McGyver back. Only wish he could still do a little of what he did then.
I hope my reminiscing of when I use to do things without no fear. Sparks an idea to start a new project. Maybe something to replace those old pieces.