It's cold in the Northwest today, really cold. We put the heat on and that just doesn't happen in this apartment. Our building is usually raging with warmth, you would think the first floor was the lobby of Hell (nope, just the laundry room).
I've got a mug of green tea, I've eaten my cereal. Nothing left to do but shower and post an Etsy package...and then paint.
It doesn't take a lot to throw a wrench in my gears. Of all the 'artistic' attributes I aspire to have, a fickle temperament isn't one of them. Some artists really cultivate their inner nut job, pouring their emotions across the page, slashing a blank canvas and tossing a hand to their forehead to cry out, "I can't work like this!" Myself, I've grown to dislike that kind of show. Usually I'm too busy drawing to feign an interesting malady of the spirit (or acknowledge an actual one).
And so I try to snuff out temperamental work interruptions with everything logical I can throw at them. Feeling angry? Funny youtube videos. Feeling sad? Eat an entire pie. Feeling fat? Read a magazine at the gym and act like I'm totally going to leave the locker room and work out, just after this article. Homesick? Call to Mom to say hi. Actually sick? Alka Seltzer, doesn't matter what I have, Alka Seltzer works every time.
However, at the end of the day we creative types probably create because deep down we're also sensitive types, and so I confess here a change to my life or routine can send my paintbrushes spinning into outer space if I'm not careful.
Which is probably why I haven't been able to paint anything since the beginning of October. My grandfather's illness, death, returning home, and returning home from returning home all lead to my painting gears grinding down to a rusted halt. I am looking to remedy that today and climb back on the sketch horse. And ride it into paint town. Yes sir, there's a new sheriff in paint town, and she is procrastinating by typing out weak metaphors instead of sitting down to draw.
Okay, here I go!
I've got a mug of green tea, I've eaten my cereal. Nothing left to do but shower and post an Etsy package...and then paint.
It doesn't take a lot to throw a wrench in my gears. Of all the 'artistic' attributes I aspire to have, a fickle temperament isn't one of them. Some artists really cultivate their inner nut job, pouring their emotions across the page, slashing a blank canvas and tossing a hand to their forehead to cry out, "I can't work like this!" Myself, I've grown to dislike that kind of show. Usually I'm too busy drawing to feign an interesting malady of the spirit (or acknowledge an actual one).
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| This is my artsy, 'deep' side. She'd spell her name with two G's. Wait-- |
However, at the end of the day we creative types probably create because deep down we're also sensitive types, and so I confess here a change to my life or routine can send my paintbrushes spinning into outer space if I'm not careful.
Which is probably why I haven't been able to paint anything since the beginning of October. My grandfather's illness, death, returning home, and returning home from returning home all lead to my painting gears grinding down to a rusted halt. I am looking to remedy that today and climb back on the sketch horse. And ride it into paint town. Yes sir, there's a new sheriff in paint town, and she is procrastinating by typing out weak metaphors instead of sitting down to draw.
Okay, here I go!
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