Boots

Boots are complicated. My artist grandma, B, painted her rendition of the boot: one laying on its side, the other upright, laces undone, encircling the toe. They are frozen lifeless in the position where the foot left them. But however visually accurate this may be, it does not capture all the boot’s nuances: a winter chill freezing the leather into a hardened uncomfortable form, the day’s accumulated mud weighing on each step, the fear that your foot will find something else inside, the pride at the work they’ve done. Just try and paint that, the discomfort, weight, fear, and pride.