So here I am, trying bravely to get used to these water soluble oils and I come across this in the book I am reading. The author is describing the primary character's feelings as he walks into the art studio after dark:
"He loved the quiet, the sense that he was safe is some embryonic way, and he loved the exotic smells of the turpentine and the paints, which forever would fill him with a sense of freedom and hope." From Lisa Grunwald's
"The Irresistible Henry House".
Sigh. These new oils, they are easier on the environment and on me, but I doubt anyone will ever get that Proustian moment from them. Last complaining post about them, though. I think I am painting more because of them and I am beginning to think that it is the act of painting, not the smell of the materials, that fills me with that sense of freedom and hope.
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