Thumbing through photo after photo on my computer looking for certain ones to send to a hopeful client for ideas… I came across a few that made me stop and think a little. You know, the one that gives you tunnel vision for a split second and forces your eyes to focus uncontrollably. Then instantly you remember everything about that moment and every emotion that flooded you body that day. I felt these feelings when I scrolled over this one. I love to create and get my hands dirty and most gratifying is the “yeah I made that” feeling at the end of the day. Ava has always been more interested in focus, organization and problem solving. Sure it sounds overwhelming for a almost two year old at the time, but unless you’ve ever seen her in action, you’ll just have to take my word for it. She has always enjoyed splashing around with her finger paints, though has always showed interest in the “Daddy’s” paints and brushes. Reluctant like many parents, I wanted nothing to do with getting oil paints smeared on everything in a 3 foot radius. Not to mention her clothes, nose, ears, and hair. Finger paints were easy to remove off of anything, including her skin. Seems after each painting session once in the bath her water would eventually turn one of the many secondary colors. I’m not sure how she managed, but she did. This day was different, I pulled them down from the top shelf and squirted the expensive oils onto the canvas. I thought what the hell, its paint, I’ll get more. It wasn’t like I was going to use the paints to make the next great masterpiece. As I squirted the colors onto the canvas she laughed at the sound it made then quickly yelled out its color. I handed her the brush and she grabbed much like a fork. I had to give a quick lesson in that it wasn’t a food utensil and we were’t going to stab a sausage, but instead paint. Flipping the bush 180 degrees I watched her every brush stroke, she had never held a brush until this point, it was all brand new. She glided the worn down brush as her eyes grew like saucers, I could tell she was either scared or excited that she was really getting to use Daddy’s paints. She stared hard while dragging the bristles along the canvas as it left a a oil streak of ridges to connect her newly shaped rectangle . It brought me back to the first time I ever drove a car by myself. The feeling of freedom, independence, excitement, accomplishment, and pure terror. Upon finding out she could mix colors to make new ones, make any shape she wanted and paint over something to make it new, it was over. Not over in the sense she was done, but over in the sense she no longer needed my assistance. She was now an artist, a diva artist at that! I just held her tight on my lap and watched the show. Needless to say since then she has a plethora of works, but this one is the one I treasure most.