On Art and My Father

I put pencil to paper yesterday after many, many years.  I'd been itching to art for a couple of weeks now, since going to galleries looking to buy some art.

This here is Ruhi, having a laugh with her raincoat... :)



Oddly enough, I've always been able to do this.  People always are amazed at this "hidden talent".   Doesn't take me all that long either.  When I was in my teens, I did a stoopid amount of Boy George, circa "Karma Chameleon".  I loved his hair, his make-up, his clothes... Ah, wasn't he just the most fabulous? *happy sigh*

I attribute my artistic talents to my father (if you believe these things are passed down genetically).  One Milton Chan Wah Siong, a sensitive, ponderous Hokkien Peranakan Baba, fantastically laidback, contented lifetime underachiever, now happily retired and able to indulge in his favourite pastimes, which include watching a ridiculous amount of TV and discussing conspiracy theories (gossip, actually) with his coffeeshop mates.  He even moves in slow-mo.  I'm serious.  That's my daddy. :)

And with that, I shall next put some paint to canvas.  My father has also dabbled in oil painting, and has some breathtaking pieces to prove, lying somewhere in his stuffed-up bedroom.  Honestly, it's Hoarders material (I wonder what his reactions are when he does watch that TV programme: switch channels in denial, or admire their stuff? :S)  I must try and dig some out and photograph them, and keep them for posterity.  So when Ruhi discovers she can pencil up a portrait without any practice, she knows why. :)