"Tonight, I will become an artist!"
Or something more like...
"Tonight, I shall procrastinate about painting something for the first time in roughly a kazillion years. I shall find a photo, or set up a still life, or try sketching a portrait. It'll likely be crud, therefore I had better give it some careful consideration. Maybe I should make a cup of tea while I think about this some more."
So in October, an old university friend, now a keen rambler (Who'd have thunk it? Back in the day, the furthest we walked was 20 minutes from our closest nightclub to our flat, having spent our £5 budget on ten 50p vodka and cokes.) had posted this stunning photograph -
And a few weeks later, when I eventually tore myself from Sons of Anarchy, I hauled my lazy backside up the stairs to The Studio (also known by the pseudonyms The Spare Room, Tuff Crate City or Catland) - and began to paint.
I love painting! The tension just flows from every appendage. For the hour and a half that The Bairn naps, I can forget about work, the infinite laundry pile, financial worries. It's unadulterated bliss. All that matters is that the colours sing and the composition is in harmony. Aaaaaah.
And then it's finished. I'm sitting thinking "This is great! I'm really chuffed to bits with this one. I'm going to be finished soon - cant wait to get that last stroke on..... There we go!" Then I'm all "Oh. That'll be that then." And I just know it'll be flipping months before I achieve inspiration PLUS MOTIVATION.
Pretty though, eh?
Posted with Blogsy
No comments:
Post a Comment