the painting

September 1993:

I use to paint using acrylics, not sure why I stopped. I get good at things then lose interest. Did the same with golf and tying fly’s. While working on my creations I would stop and look at them from different angles. Sometimes even turning them to see what other abstract ideas came out. My house was also home to a spirit of an elderly woman. By me restoring the house, a 1939 Craftsman style bungalow, I opened her door. She was harmless but made her self known by speaking in a tone as clear as two people having an everyday conversation.
This was the first time I heard her, I was alone. I get to a stopping point and set on the steps. Out of nowhere, plain as day an older woman’s voice says, “I DON’T KNOW”. Like she is unsure of the painting. I’m thinking, did I just hear that? Was it my neighbors outside?
One day I was showing my friend Amy how to do a painting for her house. We matched up the colors and started a design and textures. We stood back mainly to take a break. As we sat there “I DON’T KNOW” came through loud and clear, again. Amy looked at me with her eyes wide open. She didn’t believe what she just heard. I told her It was the second time, the first time I didn’t think much of it. Amy left and wouldn’t come back. I had to bring the painting to her a week later.


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