We only had a day together, a day that started far inland and needed to make up for all the years we’ve missed in just a few short hours. Thanks to the magic of an old truck and a tank of gas, we accomplished all that and so much more. Time has been hard on both of us, but this is an eternal friendship: it picks up where it left off, regardless of years or miles, never a beat missed. Read more
It’s official. I did exactly nothing for Inktober Oct 13.
Well, I didn’t do nothing, exactly. More like I moped morosely though reference images and fidgeted with small objects around the studio, came up blank, and eventually retired to bed for the night. It happens. I felt like a real loser though, especially after nearly dozing off before painting the Tibia Fusus and then finding myself so energized at the finish. A good painting makes me dance around while working on it! Even the music I deeply love is not going to get me on my feet like that, I don’t respond to it in that way. Something about seeing the vision in my head come to life on paper does get me bouncing around like a happy little kid. It’s nice to still be able to do that even with the burdens of adulthood piled up on my shoulders.
This has been on my list for a while now. It’s the corner of the industrial property where I have studio space – the management recently saw fit to install a new fence with razor wire around the top. This amuses me to no end, because it’s really not a bad neighborhood at all. It looks all dystopian and prison-yardy though, and ensures that nothing short of birds, lizards, or very determined commandos can possibly be invading from that side of the property. Add some sun to create fabulous swirly shadows, and I can’t resist!
I loved watching her. She was doing some kind of movement exercise, slow and thoughtful, sort of dance-like. Not one bit of self consciousness at all. Neither was she concerned, evidently, what anyone thought of her fashion sense. I used to live freely like that, and like her experienced no particular judgement on my choice of hairstyle or clothing. Friends and colleagues just accepted me as me, and I did the same. Somewhere along the line I learned to worry about such things, and started dressing to silence the critical voice that surely lurks behind the lips of everyone who sees me. No one’s said a word from then till now, but I assume it’s there all the same.
It’s kind of amazing what a powerful prison our own minds are. Watching her dance helped let me out of mine.