I can’t help it. All my inner squares wish to be heard. I remembered this story while noticing the tiles in the bathroom, as I wondered if my bathroom tiles could ever possibly inspire me to paint pictures as great as Pierre Bonnard’s fantastical tiles of paradise inspired him to paint Marthe in the Bath.
Anyway, while I pondered, I remembered a time when I was a little girl. We visited my uncle and his wife and my cousins in Dobbin Heights at their little house on the edge of town. My cousins were playing with tiles in the paradise that was my uncle’s quirky back yard. They had tiles of all colors, and we quickly turned the handling of these tiles into a rich game. Whether my uncle had recently redone his kitchen or whether it was for some other reason that he had all these tiles I never knew. But they were small tiles about an inch square and there were all sorts of beautiful colors.
I played with my cousins the entire time of our visit, and when it was time to go home my uncle put a large bunch of tiles into a paper bag for me to take home from the family’s huge supply.
And I loved those tiles. It was one of the earliest times that I became aware of loving color — just loving color plain and deep and pure.
Interesting to notice now that the tiles were a gift. People often give us the very things we need before we’re even aware of needing them. My uncle (who has always loved to build things) was thus one of my earliest art teachers. He gave me a bag full of tiles.
I wonder if some of my readers would be willing to share your art stories? What got you started along your path of color and line?
Come visit my store on CafePress!