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My father was a pretty good painter. While at university in Toronto, he took lessons from A.Y. Jackson and others of the famed Group of Seven. But as the years passed and his life got taken over, more and more, by academic studies in psychology and religion, he grew more and more cautious in his use of paint.
One day, a friend who was also a painter dropped in. She watched him working with fine brushstrokes and tiny dabs of paint. She squeezed flaming magenta onto his palette. She took his brush. She slapped a blob of magenta onto his canvas.
It stood out like an erupting volcano.
“There!” she commanded. “Paint to that!”
To his credit, my father did. A single blob of vivid colour changed that painting. And all the paintings\ he did thereafter.
Categories: Soft Edges
Tags: Group of seven, painting, editing, value