I decided a couple days ago to attempt making it again. I was mentally out of sorts and in odd disrepair, right from the start, and my creation started to show my mood prior to my facial expressions. Funny how this works huh?
The recipe called for eight cups of flour, but I found out that using ground oatmeal as a substitute required more then that in order for things to shape up. The dough started to look like a mass of mars soil before it even had enough power to be handle as a single entity. I nearly snapped. I used to be good at making bread! And now look! . . shit.
Grandma was sitting at the dining table when she realized what was happening, and quickly got up and stood beside me. "I've handled bread dough just like this. We need to oil our hands". (well I knew that... but I was not in the mood) I let go of my pride and Grandma came to the rescue washing and oiling her hands and dumping my mess onto the counter so that she could handle it better. Starting to punch and kneed it, she began to sing a song, thanking God for all that He had given. She smiled and laughed at me.
And the bread turned out very well! A little flat yes, but it had elasticity and bond. Dear Grandma.
The mural work continues. Today, I managed to apply the photos, and hopefully tomorrow I will be working on the tree. There are so many creative ideas coming from this project. And bad ones too of course. I have learned never to mix acrylic project paint with interior wall paint. The result is a very a fragile skin like tissue that is very damage prone. I'm hoping to shellac it tomorrow in order to seal it up somehow. It's not a disaster, as I figured a way to utilize my blooper, it's just a lesson learned.
I made sure to only use wall paint for the transfers and they worked out pretty well! Thanks to Katy Grotte, and her innate photo skills, we have some nice family shots on the wall.
But I'm running out of time. Memphis calls. So we'll see how far tomorrow gets us.