A high school friend contacted me on Facebook the other day asking if I could send her a photo of a finger painting I did when I was three years old. She saw it once when we were in college, I think it was, and said she’s never forgotten it. I was out at my mom and dad’s for lunch today, and photographed it. That’s it above. The actual painting is less vibrant than what you see above, but I bumped it up a bit because I shot it in low-light conditions.
Funny story about that painting. My dad tacked it to his office wall when I gave it to him. My dad worked at the time for the public health department. When the district supervisor, a psychiatrist, paid a visit to his office and saw it on the wall, he recommended that Ray’s son be seen by a shrink. So, they carted me off to see a man they described as “the funny man.” My mom said that when the psychiatrist questioned me about why I had used such dark colors, I told him, “Because I ran out of bright ones.” Thus ended the interrogation, I am told.