I grew up with an artist Mom. Canvases, easel, oil paints, bushes, turpentine, color splatted paint smock, and brightly painted canvases. I always loved her paintings of horses, country scenes, and old houses. She gave up painting several years ago due to a painful back. I am now the recipient of many of her paintings, paints, brushes, and carry paint box. And hundreds of her oil paintings had been sold throughout the years living on in places throughout the U.S.A. and no telling where else.
Recently, though, an artist puzzle fix.
Mom enjoys putting jigsaw puzzles together. She is learning to glue them; the type of glue smeared on the front of the puzzle to dry clear. With one puzzle (pictured), the glue dried in a white clump in the middle of the puzzle. Mom tried to get it off and ended up damaging the puzzle. The fix? Why, to paint the mess-up. I brought her wooden box of paints and brushes, and the artist set to work repairing the puzzle. An artist puzzle fix. I sat watching amazed and savored seeing my mother paint again; and this memory stored within my treasure box of my mind.
The painted puzzle when dry will hang upon the wall. By the way, both Mom and I enjoy putting puzzles together. When working on a jigsaw puzzle, time and everything is forgotten.