Mean while, as a painting teacher, Father taught me how to paint. He never told me much. He just told me to read 'how to paint' book series and give some comments when he thought needed.
I lived with water color, paper, and brushes. Colors were my friends. The colors in my palette weren't red and yellow and green and blue. I was familiar with cobalt blue, light yellow, lemon yellow, burnt umber, burnt sienna. I mixed them to create more colors on the paper, and be a painting.
Later when I went to college, my older sister bought me a guitar with her first salary. It was definitely a dream come true. So I bought a cheap book of how to play guitar, and started to learn to play. That's how I learned, with some lessons I got from some friends.
I kept painting during college. Father gave me some brushes and paints to work with.
When I finally got married and birthed, I got no time to do either painting or playing music. I sold my guitar, and gave my painting tools to a boy lived next door.
In the middle of 2009, I bought a guitar. It was supposed to be for my kids. I had a music teacher to come once a week to teach them. Turned out I couldn't help my self. I strummed again.
A couple years ago I attended a friend's painting exhibition. The smell of the oil paint struck into my nose. Right then I called my father. I want to paint again.
This evening when I got home, Ar asked me, "Ibu, will you teach us to paint?"
I was so tired but I said yes. Yes dear off course I will. So they prepared everything and we started to work. It has been more than 12 years since the last time I held my brush. I opened the books again, read the tutorials again, and together learn to paint (again) with Ar and Ir.
While waiting for the basic colors to dry, I saw Ibit learning to play guitar. Thing she has been doing for last couple months. She refused to learn to play guitar before, and chose piano as her fingers were still to small to tick the strings in frets. But she can do it now, and the progress was quite well. I gave her my book and told her a little theory I learned.
I may be not a good musician, neither a painter. But I have learned both as the meal for my soul. I am so thin in theory, I practiced naturally.
I am so happy that my kids have found the same need in them. And I, with my limited knowledge and skill, am so happy to share what I know with them.
I never hope they will be a great musician nor painter. Just knowing how they live with arts, has filled my heart. They will be real human, the complete ones.