"Artists are just children who refuse to put down their crayons"
- Al Hirschfeld
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A word from the Artist:
A word from the Artist:
The earliest memory I have of a holiday gift is finger paints from Santa. Those 6 little pots of rainbow jellified pigment would begin a life long love of creating shape, form and color where it had not previously existed. Much to the horror of my beloved Mommy most of those paints ended up across the floor, on a nearby wall and my 2 cats but thankfully some landed on the slick white paper; freezing my imagination in all its glory for the whole family to see. Some would have called it a mess but my young eyes saw sunshine filtering through the Mulberry tree by the garden and rain swelling the little creek beyond the corn field to near over flowing. I could not control the paint at such a young age and even now I find myself mystified by the way paint and bristles gently pull control away from me. Wisdom has taught me to no longer fight the direction they choose. Instead I try to yield to them, to appreciate the way the paint flows, the scrape of my knife, the drag of the bristles across my canvas and draw inspiration and direction from them.
The earliest memory I have of a holiday gift is finger paints from Santa. Those 6 little pots of rainbow jellified pigment would begin a life long love of creating shape, form and color where it had not previously existed. Much to the horror of my beloved Mommy most of those paints ended up across the floor, on a nearby wall and my 2 cats but thankfully some landed on the slick white paper; freezing my imagination in all its glory for the whole family to see. Some would have called it a mess but my young eyes saw sunshine filtering through the Mulberry tree by the garden and rain swelling the little creek beyond the corn field to near over flowing. I could not control the paint at such a young age and even now I find myself mystified by the way paint and bristles gently pull control away from me. Wisdom has taught me to no longer fight the direction they choose. Instead I try to yield to them, to appreciate the way the paint flows, the scrape of my knife, the drag of the bristles across my canvas and draw inspiration and direction from them.
Today I split my time between the natural beauty of Florida's Gulf coast and the rugged beauty of the Great Lakes. It's the palette of the world that fuels me and drives me to create. From the pinks of a Rose Spoonbill down south, to the deep greys of the storm coming off Lake Michigan, from the corals, blues and greens of the Caribbean to the vibrant oranges, reds and yellows of the maples in fall. These are the colors that fill my canvas to over flowing, because really, a world without color would just be boring.
Kelly Aikey
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