Remember when you make marble paper? You take a sheet of plain white paper, not too thick that it’d never fold, nor too thin that it would crumple crease. Not coarse- the colors would run or get washed out like misshapen blobs, but paper that’s just right.
Then you pick the colors, rich colors, maybe pastels- one or two, not too many. And you put the colors together in a waterfilled tub or something, with just a hint of oil, and wait for the colors to mix magically and separate, fine lines and whorls and swoops and swirls and lines you don’t have the names for, and layer the sheet just so, so that it floats.
And a fraction of a minute before you remove the sheet, you wait with excitement and nervousness and just a hint of unease, you don’t really know what you’ll find, it could be a masterpiece or runny colors, smudged, voila!
Which is how I feel today, Rich colors. Some black, maybe a hint , maybe more.
Swirls, swoops, a dash and a splash. Impressions with a personal flourish on a plain sheet of paper, who knows what is around the corner.A whole year of fresh new days.