im watching a beautifully painted sky from my office window and i began to wonder whatever happened to the watercolor boxes that i gave my teacher every year in grade school. because i dont remember using them at all. probably one reason why i never learned to paint. or i was probably too busy chasing insects in the fields, or spitting on some makahiya, or busy doing whatever it is that i love doing when i was a kid. i probably never needed to paint anything back then.
and then i think of the grand paintings of the past, well renowned paintings from all over the world, and then i realized most of them were done by old men. old balding men who leave behind beautiful bodies of work. and most of the time the most beautiful things they do are those they did last. just right before they died.
i think that’s the way it is. the most beautiful things in the world make us drop our jaws like children seeing fireworks for the first time. people grow old and they feel sad and they look for things of beauty and it is mostly things from a colorful childhood. a bright sunny day. a blooming flower. sunrise over ricefields. free flowing streams. waterfalls. falling stars. dogs barking.
and the most striking works are those that capture these moments perfectly. those that move us. make us cry. or happy. or sad. things that make us children once more.
and now i wonder whatever happened to my watercolor sets. hmm. i think it makes sense to me now. watercolors are not for kids. the world is their painting. the teachers probably gave the watercolor sets to the old men who badly needed to paint.
