I'm taking a plein air water color class through the U of U and the location couldn't be better, Red Butte Gardens. We set up last week under a blossoming arbor in the herb garden and went to work.
I'm looking forward to the next few weeks to see if water color is going to be fun for me or not. Grandma was kind enough to share her paints and brushes with me so I wouldn't have to commit to it until I knew if I liked it enough. So far, so good. I like the unpredictability of the way the paints blend and move with the water. Or maybe it won't be so unpredictable when I know what I'm doing?
As I packed I decided my boards from school would not be making the move with me. I lined them up on the floor, said goodbye, then walked them out to the trash.
OK, so I saved a few. I would have been crazy to just toss them all. These things signify hundreds, probably thousands, of hours of my life from the last couple of years. But they served their purpose. I've grown from the process. Holding onto a few pretty fabrics and stone samples doesn't mean anything to me now. It was the process and the knowledge I took from it I hope I'll never forget.