being very good at drawing I tried to paint. It was
quite fun and I enjoyed the smell of turpentine. I wore a beret so people would
recognize me as an artist. When painting I could always compensate my rather
lousy draftsmanship with a fine sense for colors. It gave me a sensuous feeling
to drag paint over the canvas with the pallet knife. It was all great, but I
realized I wouldn't be making any real progress without putting in a lot of
work. At that time I was more interested in playing music so I gradually lost
interest. I haven't painted anything in years. With ordinary brushes that is.