Since I have retired and have time and leisure, a desire to paint has began to develop. While walking on a street, a bouquet of anemones in a florist shop caught my attention. I fell in love with them at first sight. “You are so beautiful,” I said to them. Their faces brightened as they all replied in unison, “Paint us, if you like.” “Please give me these anemones and the tiny willow twigs over there with the white buds,” I said to the florist. I bought the flowers and joyfully returned home. What should I do? If my room is too warm, all the petals will open up immediately and the buds cannot be painted as attractive buds any longer. I therefore turned down the heater, cut the flowers, putting them in water to keep them fresh, and placed the vase on my desk.
                                                         
First, the sketch. Taking out a “shikishi” (a sheet of thick rice paper), I began to sketch. “I must observe them very carefully. Then think out a whole plan and paint the parts,” I said to myself. For a natural flow in a sketch, it is essential to let each flower speak for itself, to allow its beauty to emerge powerfully so that its spontaneous movement would not be hampered by any unnatural stroke of my brush. The anemones are dark purple, lavender, mauve, pink and white tinged with red, and they are intertwined with tiny willow twigs with small white buds.
                                     
Second, the coloring. The petals of the flowers must be painted carefully, one by one, with keen observation and attention, bringing forth their unique shades of color and shapes. The color should be faint at first and then gradually deepened to give a transparent effect. Then the petals will look soft and light as if they were about to wave at the slightest breath of wind. Finally I said, “Thank you, anemone-san. It’s finished. How do you feel?”
 
The final stage was to create cards from the painting. By putting it into a scanner, and by making images (jpgs) on the computer, I made cards of my beloved anemones and sent them to a friend who had retired at the same time as I. She writes a lot and loves cards. Soon she e-mailed me: “Thank you for the cards of such artistic beauty: a combination of art and modern technology.”
 
Admiration gives birth to further inspiration. All of a sudden, the oil painting of some red roses, which my mother had done when I was a child, flashed onto the screen of memory. It had given me a great sense of admiration and unspeakable joy then and still does even now.

This is the picture of the anemones, which I painted:
 　　　　　　　　　　　　

 

Love to all those who look at the website,
Ikiko Horiguchi rscj
Province of Japan