“a man paints with his brains and not with his hands.” // michelangelo
there were two classes in high school i was thrilled to be done with upon graduating.
one which was rather broad, encompassed all math-related themes that went beyond basic arithmetic; and the other might surprise you – as it was visual arts. if there were two parts of both the left and right side of my brain that never fully developed – therein you would find the proof.
the mathematical explanation? well, let’s just say crib notes might’ve been used in my final algebra exam and let’s leave it at that, but the art part – that one always confused me. i had always loved colour, thought myself to be the creative sort, and could see things so vividly in my head, that for certain i would be able to transfer that on to paper. but my hands never understood what i was trying to tell them. my goal of being able to sketch the perfect hand, became the hastily scrawled stick-figure for shits and giggles. i was on the honor roll, but for those C-minuses in maths and art, i had to make up for it in every other subject. ask to see the sweatshirt i designed and sewed for home ec., you’ll be impressed.
now, of course, i’m a pro at mixing hues and making sure my colour palette matches tone. it’s skin tone, but i suppose if there was any canvas i’d want to make sure to get right, my face would be the one, right?
➝ source : retouching powder in yellow (to tone down redness!) via bobbi brown
➝ source : redness correcting primer (i have a tendency to become tomato-like, what of it?) via makeup forever
➝ source : brighten dark spots & diminish the dull of a poor night’s sleep – white corrective foundation via face stockholm
➝ source : spendy, but the glow is worth it, météorites compact via guerlain