The Day My Father Began to Understand the Colors of My World

The world is full of colors. It must be. Where is depth, meaning, purpose? Colors are formed collectively. When we experience our lives, blue, red, and yellow energy washes us. Even with bright highs and dark basses or words of meaning and clarity, everything is colored and broken. What exists is art, the freedom to express your art is the privilege we take care of. When I was young I discovered expressive power. My heart is full of crayons and scissors.

When I passed an important day, I watched my parents' wedding anniversary, Mother's Day, Father's Day; I had the color of my picture disappear. My work is gray and blue, colors change a bit. The day is very difficult and work is very difficult. As my and my husband bought and moved to a new house, life continues to move forward. Through this sorrow, there is one thing in one of my works. Even though they do not know me, I know that there are large groups of people who will support me and guide him to the goal. After each picture I posted, I checked the latest post with a label of 100 days. I was inspired by other projects, which led me into the most harsh days and helped me to catch up with my painting and catch up.

On my 40th day, I remember the temperature, suppressed heat of the day. The color of the dojo tatami is bright white for visitors. I remember my nephew's face, attractive, pride of my mother, and my father's face. I remember the teacher finally smiled at the end of the ceremony and messed up my hair. Avigdor Arikha was born in 1929 and sent to concentration camps in 1941. He saved the lives of him and his sisters from the horrible sketches we witnessed at the camp - they indicated to the Red Cross staff that they helped them escape and survive. He was trained as a modernist painter until 1965. When he was 24 years old, he painted and was distinguished from sudden death.