#// I was lying in bed last night thinking about how Forde's mum encouraged his painting and this is a good excuse as any to explore that

[renaisguy]

[ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 ] ― sender paints a picture onto part of receiver’s body ( specify what & where )

dorothea's eyes narrow in concentration as she holds his hand, carefully dragging a small brush across the back of it. a few paint strokes in, she looks up, her mouth twisting uncertainly. “huh. i was going for a daffodil, but…” it hardly looks like it. “think you can give me a few pointers?”

"It's a good start." Forde smiles at the flower on his hand. "Usually when I'm painting, I have the subject in front of me, so doing this from memory, as a first attempt... you've done well."

Forde is reminded of when he started drawing. However rough or indecipherable his charcoal sketches were, his mother would congratulate him, encourage him to continue. It wasn't about being the best, or even being 'good'. It was about creating something you were proud of.

"I think it needs a stem." He says, dipping her paintbrush in a light green paint, guiding her hand in three straight lines to make a couple of leaves as well. "With this, you get a sense of perspective, see? You can tell it's a daffodil now."

He takes Dorothea's hand now. "When I paint, I try to think about the layers of the landscape. What covers what, if that makes sense. So I would start with the stem-" he draws the same three lines on Dorothea's hand, "then the petals-" six yellow strokes, "and finally, the centre-" An orange dot.

He holds his hand next to hers so she can see the comparison. "Also, when I'm using a canvas I let the paint dry between coats, so the colours don't bleed together... but of course I wouldn't keep you for so long."