Artist vs. Furntiure

Please, someone EXPLAIN IT TO MEEEEE!!

How is it that someone so artistic, someone who can put paint and brush to canvas and create spectacular visions of wonder CANNOT PAINT??!

My sister Holly and I painted Gillian's room at Mammy's (my old room) this weekend. Well, to be 100% accurate, we left the walls alone and painted the floor and furniture. Yes, we painted 150 year old original walnut floors. It was decided that painting them would be better for the floor than stripping it because it was thought that perhaps the solvent needed to remove the century and a half of grit and grime just might dissolve the decrepit wood. The furniture, also antiques by today's standard, was painted a lovely 'Dusty Rose Day Glo Puce-y Pink" I think was how Holly put it.

I precariously painted the floor on Friday. Holly arrived bright and early at 11 am Saturday to help with the rest of the grunt work. I got to work on the headboard trusting Holly, the artist, to do her effortless magic on the footboard. My lil sis and I engaged in our typical Summer-n-Holly mindless chatter/banter. It was quite a few minutes before I needed a refill of paint. I headed over to Holly's station, as she was painting out of the can. I stopped, dead-cold in my tracks. I was not prepared for the carnage my eyes beheld.

On Gillian's headboard there were GIANT BLOBS of dripping paint. The entire middle section was unpainted, untouched. Around the delicate curved arch of the top of the bed, bright yellow paint screamed out, taunting me. She had missed it. Surrounding the yellow was a stormy sea of pink. Stormy because there were even more globs, smears and streaks.

"How-Wha? I don't-I... Holly?"

My gorgeous lil sis turned her hypnotic green eyes and bright smile to me. She was blissfully unaware of her...mess. The smile slowly dissolved as she saw my stricken face. Paint brush in mid-air she asked, "What? What is it?"

I blinked rapidly, trying to focus my vision. "You... You can't ... You can't..PAINT!!"

"WHAT? I can so! I can so PAINT!"

And then my shock gave way to Taunting Big Sis mode. I sprang into action, snatching the spongie brush away from her maniacle grip. "Look! Look at that! It's all smeary! And the runs! Oh my GOSH! HOW did you DO THAT??!"

It was unfathomable. Not only is Holly talented in the visual arts, she and I grew up in a Civil War era
home. We were raised on paint vapor and wallpaper paste fumes ('splains a lot, don't it??!). By ages 8and 9, we learned how to faux paint wooden columns to look like they were made of marble. Holly and I cut, diced and stripped layer upon layer of wallpaper off and smoothly back on to uneven walls. She and I were decorating dynamos before our preteen years.

Then I started thinking. I had seen her do those other things, I was right along side her. But paint a flat surface a single color? Hmmmm... I think I recall Mom redirecting her into something else. Something less... restrictive. Yes! Yes, that's it! For Holly, the paint needs to flow, it needs to be coaxed and guided into something beautiful and amazing to behold. To Holly, the paint and brush are merely vessels for her vision. Apparently, she HAS NO VISION (artisitc or otherwise) when painting household goods. Or walls.

No further explanation needed. I get it, sis. You have creative needs that cannot be met or contained by mindless housework. Either that or you are so devious that you constantly mess up on purpose in order to get out of a boring activity. Well, I can repect that, too.

So from now on, when the family is undertaking yet another extreme make over, you are reglated to BABYSITTING DUTY! It's My Lil Pony, SpongeBob and Gilly Raspberries for you from now on!!!

How's THAT for creative genius!!