Posted in Photo essay

Tagged O for Oils

I was given crayons but I hankered after my older sister’s present of ‘painting by numbers’. Little pots of oil colours that had to be swirled and mixed until the hues came to life. Then followed the magical transformation of flowery outlines into real works of art,  by simply brushing the numbered areas with the appropriate coded colour. Adding to the enchantment was the compulsively alluring aroma of linseed oil, completed by the taboo of not being allowed to touch my sister’s things.

“When you are older” was the promise I was given but time came and went and for whatever reasons I never did acquire any oil paints of my own, nor any but the most rudimentary skills to go with them. Nevertheless, the frustrated artist remains to this day.
Strolling in St James' Park
But with the transformations of Smart Photo Editor and some consecutive editing, I can print my works on canvas and make believe that I paint with oils… and  join Frizztext for his story challenge ‘ Tagged O’

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Author:

playing with photography @ eljaygee whilst Tell Tale Therapy has a weakness for words

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