Fuengirola Flight

We fled to Fuengirola to lick our wounds after suffering a catastrophic family loss. Now there were only three of us. But during that week in what they now call ‘resort’ surroundings courtesy of the Sol Melia, I think we did find healing and a new sense of family. And now many years later, each of us have founded new families and are I think all as happy as can be expected.

While I sat on a lounger painting, the others were skilfully entertained by the hotel team, who persuaded them to get involved in the pool volley ball and archery. I think the Archery targets are still around somewhere, proud souvenirs of perfect scores.

So my Fuengirola Flight was really an art therapy piece, although, I might argue that what Art is not a therapy? And is there something wrong with our present world that art has to be categorised as a therapy to be given any importance at all!?

I certainly did not ascribe much importance to my art, and it dwindled, or perhaps found outlets in other, more commercial occupations. Now though, I hope to correct that, and have another painting on the go, actually a pair of paintings, which are also the response to adjusting to a ‘new normal’ to use a particularly irritating phrase that health professionals like to use, but more of that anon.