I've been thinking that there are some parallels between my need to paint and descriptions of addiction. But addicted in good way.
Looking back there were signs even at a young age. My Aunty Mary took me away for a beach holiday to one of our favourite beaches when I was five or six. It was a wonderful time but we hadn't packed any drawing paper. As soon she returned me home I dove into the hot water cupboard where the scrap paper was stored and then furiously started drawing out ideas on the floor. My Aunty commented that obviously I had been missing drawing equipment!
During primary school images were much easier for me to relate to than words. And word soon got out that I could draw. Kids would pass their books down the table for me to draw up a fancy title page for the latest topic.
Once when I was collected from school I announced I had had the best day ever at school. "We did art all day. We drew pictures and made sculptures. If only school was like that every day!" I still agree with that statement, if only everyday was filled with art.
Returning from a fun weekend staying with a friend I was in a really bad mood. After some questioning from my mother I said, "Yes I had fun but I didn't get any of my project work done and I have so many ideas."
Later on in my high school years I would be up late on a painting roll. Mum would put her head around the corner and say “Come on, time to go to bed.” In those days I painted in acrylics so I had a handy excuse up my sleeve “Oh but I've just mixed up some colours Mum. I can't stop now or they'll dry” so she would leave me for another hour, for which I would have conveniently just mixed another batch by the time she came back hehe! At which point she said “You would paint all night if I let you!” And of course I replied “Then why don't you!?”
Nowadays I think about painting all the time. It's like I'm itching to get my next fix. Planning the next strokes on a painting. Seeing a sunrise and analysing how I would mix the colours. Looking at photos and breaking down the shapes in my mind. Looking at a landscape and planning the order of the layers. When there are days when I don't paint I'm anxious to when I can next get on the brushes. And when there are multiple days not painting I'm almost tapping and the table wanting to get back to it.
Am I obsessed? I hope I don’t come across that way. I think it is healthy to have a passion and a drive. Everyone needs one. I feel lucky that I have found mine and I discovered it so early on in life. It is comforting that it is something that has always been with me and always will be. It’s like a loyal friend.
A young Georgette aged 4 years. Much later in life I painted this as gift for my sister.
Picking up on harmonise colours from a young age. Pig, aged 5 1/2 years.
A witch with many rings. Aged 8 years.
Comic strip of characters I developed aged 10 years.
Scotty dog, aged 11 years.
Happy family. Vampire family drawing aged 11 years.
Mural on Ashburton College 2017. Aged 17 years.
'Young Georgette' Acrylic on board, 2007. Aged 17 years.