pastels are the best

I was eleven years old when I picked up chalk pastels, and intuitively knew what to do.  I smeared creamy sunset colors with my hands onto the back of a piece of cardboard.  Gorgeous yellow lit up like real light, and a tiny white dot made the perfect sun, burnt oranges were exactly the color of sky.  I used the sides of both my hands to blend purple into the horizon line, like I’d done it a billion times before.  I’d made something perfect.  Life with pastels was beautiful. Continue reading “art as my truth” »