For me, painting is an unfulfilled dream, a desire to say something...
I used to love to draw when I was growing up - I used to use a stick on the ground to draw cars while walking along the Nėries Embankment. It was like a daily ritual of walks...
Later, in 3-4th grade, a classmate used to pour watercolours very nicely, but I couldn't do it - I was very nervous.
I dreamt of learning to do that too....
Later, when I was 12-13 years old, I saw a boy in the Jauri Pioneer Camp drawing WWII airplanes - like a photo.....
I used to spend summers in Radviliškis at Aeta's house, and she was an uneducated artist, then working in a boiler-house, who used to draw portraits of her neighbours on the whitewashed walls with a piece of coal. That also made a big impression.
I started to draw planes, tanks with pencil. My aunt, of course, complimented me, encouraged me...
Later on, I started to draw with gouache, because it was interesting to mix the colours, like with oil paint.
When my aunt wrote two letters about the technology of oil painting, I started to draw in oil....
So there was a need to draw, and I won't deny that there is still a need to draw, but there is less and less time left for this hobby....
Heartily
MINDSAW
