monday.
over-cast.
runny nose.
coffee.
more coffee.
eager to paint.
the latest maid portrait is in the living room, leaning against my bookcase. i'm glad it's still here. it's nice to have some time with the work after the painting is done and the act of looking takes over. i'm no longer scrutinizing it. i'm enjoying it- looking at the painting as if it weren't my own. it's a rare moment. quiet and full of smiles. no needs to satisfy. coffee in hand and a wide-open day. a grey day.
grey days are my excuse to wear my grey dress and black tights and my hair wild or pulled back tight in a ballerina bun, my excuse to write letters and make silly little things to mail off, to go back and forth between poetry books and read them out-loud. grey days are coffee drinking days all day long. i can oblige. most certainly. maybe even a day to go poke around in antique stores. last time i found an old alice in wonderland watercolor tin from england. it's about 12 inches wide and 2 1/2 feet long. no watercolors left inside but i was happy about that. i'm planning on using it to mix my velvet black gouache in. grey days are days for black gouache.
2 comments:
I'm sending you a poem today, if I didn't live in Minnesota we could go out for Sangria's and talk about art like crazy, crazy, crazy. I defiantly need space in my life to be just be Heather, artist. And engage in conversation about passion, ideas, feelings, discovery's, and inspiration's with creating. My art is with me all the time no matter what else I'm doing and I'm not all that talented at multitasking. I find myself talking to myself a lot :)
Oh and I've had friendship where I was put in between the husband and wife too, oh gawdddd awful.
A Time to Talk
When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don't stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven't hoed,
And shout from where I am, What is it?
No, not as there is a time to talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.
Robert Frost
thank you! exactly! :)
i talk to myself too- sometimes that's the only option. i wake up talking so if i'm home alone that's just the route it goes. i've managed to have some pretty insightful, entertaining conversations with myself but nothing near the great exchange with a good, loved, welcome friend. i think artists need other artists... we need to talk about all the things that no one else really seems to look at or think about... those worries that (to others) seem strange or small or no big deal. but they are a big deal. conversations about color and line and concept... i had to learn how to hold those conversations and i miss being able to have them on a daily basis and i miss making art-nerd jokes and waxing philosphic all hoity-toity like with fellow art-nerds. those conversations are fun and giving and full of love and joy.
thank you for the poem. i've been wondering what "friendship" is lately... how to do it and what it entails and where the lines are. i guess it just comes down to who you feel at home with- a place of safety where everyone shines.
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