My grandpa Harry Rainey was a tremendous artist. I can't remember what prompted me to ask, but about 16 years ago I had inquired from my grandpa Tay to give me art lessons. We had arranged that after I got off work on Thursdays, I head over to his house for an art lesson after dinner. It was a 45 minute drive, mostly because of exasperating OC traffic, so I spent the night too. I'd get there and grandma Winnie would have a cookie sheet in the oven of cheese sandwiches (her version of grilled cheese I suppose), and a cup of tomato soup or something. After dinner the table would be cleared and grandpa would venture back into his office to get some supplies. We drew mostly, working on perspective and such. It went on for months, and I can't recall why it stopped. I remember grandpa telling me candidly how he'd dreamed when he was young of going all the way with art, including a New York penthouse suite. He had a respectable business in his younger years, drawing ads for clients. It took care of the family comfortably. Now, all these years later, I know he knows what is going on. He died at 89 years old in his modest So Cal home, and I wasn't there. I never dreamed I'd be doing art, and that after all these years later I'd recall those relaxing lessons. For me, at the time, it was just something to do, and I know he got a huge kick out of it.
I am a self taught artist, no one educated me about painting other than what I'd learned in books and by trial and error. But that said, my grandfather taught me something immeasurable. If you believe in yourself, and have people around you who believe in you as well, there's no limit to where you can go. Penthouse and all.
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