Not being very good at drawing I tried to paint. It was quite fun and I enjoyed the smell of turpentine. I wore a beret so people would recognize me as an artist. When painting I could always compensate my rather lousy draftsmanship with a fine sense for colors. It gave me a sensuous feeling to drag paint over the canvas with the pallet knife. It was all great, but I realized I wouldn't be making any real progress without putting in a lot of work. At that time I was more interested in playing music so I gradually lost interest. I haven't painted anything in years. With ordinary brushes that is.