Things we forget to remember; or choose not to.
That is not the case when it comes to this painting. I simply forgot that I created this early rendition of a pair of "floating" boots. It came to my attention during a search of portfolios stored in the attic space above the stairway.
If I remember correctly, the boots were some of my favorites. But that is rather obvious based on their worn appearance.
I've always loved boots—and always will.
If, a few years down the road, you get sight of a stooped, mussy-haired, granny with unlaced sh-- kickers atop a pair of saggy baggy, mismatched, hunting socks, it could be me.
But not likely. That's hardly my style.
Maybe it has to do with growing up in the '60s but I've always been a knee-high, leather boot kind of girl. It sounds a bit bizarre, but the boot tops got shorter as my family got bigger; and, over time, the tops disappeared completely. Boots were replaced by tennis shoes, sandals, and the like.
But, now that the children have moved on—and my calves have shrunk some—I may have to get me some of them there fancy schmancy knee-high boots. The granddaughters will think I'm the just the coolest granny around; or they'll think I'm off my dang rocker. Nah! They'll think I'm cool.
|Photo of original watercolor.|