I was being lazy. Too lazy to paint on a small A5 card, too lazy to prep a canvas or wet paper.
But I wanted to paint. I had creativity an colour that needed to be unleashed.
I sat there staring at my leg. My leg could be a canvas, I thought.
But it isn’t proper, artists don’t paint themselves. They paint on canvas am boards and things that are timeless.
I couldn’t possibly paint me?!
I remember the woman who taught herself to paint and when she ran out of surfaces she painted directly onto herself and them into others.
Well then. So I made the leap off the canvas and away from how we are told to do things, what’s normal and accepted and freely applied paint to my leg for no other reason than I felt like it.
I even took my leg out in public and to a dance class. People thought it was cool.
Whether that was the colour or the fact I had painted my leg, I won’t ever know.
But I liked it.