Why am I showing you my two beautiful daughters coloring pictures in a dimly lit room, with toys scattered about behind them at approximately 6:40 PM? To tell you that I enjoy living in clutter? That I expect my kids will all be in glasses by the time they hit middle school?
OR that it is 6:40 on one clock and each clock is saying a different time?
No and maybe and I have strategically set clocks in the house to fake myself out that I'm running late all the time when really I'm on time?
The time thing is a lie. Ask anyone. I'll be late for my own funeral.
But, I digress. Onto the subject at hand: The Painting.
The truth be told, I have not painted since spring planting began last spring. Not a brush stroke. It's sad.
This is the last painting I finished. It's the first painting in a series that I call, "30 paintings in 30 miles" and it's 30 abandoned farms within 30 miles of our home. It's really sad to think that there are so many just with in a 1/2 an hour drive from here. I really think they these old structures have such cool stories. For those who have not seen this painting, notice the six deer in it?
This is painting number two before I started on it last night.
This was afterwards. Each night I get one glorious hour to spend on my painting. I seriously look forward to that hour all day. I bought the latest Josh Groban CD, which is weird, because I'm more of a Nickleback, Steve Earl, red dirt country person than anything but he has so much passion in his voice and in the instrumentals.
I think it makes me paint better. Really.
So I pop Josh Groban in and sit here in the little messy corner of the living room (we actually clean it before the kids go to bed) with the bad lighting and paint to my hearts content. For one hour.
I painted furiously last night, while Josh sang in a different language that was the most beautiful thing ever and I imagined running through a field in the french countryside with my painting and...
a bag of chips.
This diet is killing me. And it's only the third of January. Not good.
By the way, to all of you who have a separate place to paint, sew or create of some kind, stop reading, (I'll wait) go in there and kiss the floor and hug a piece of furniture. Then come back.
And look at my pathetic 3x2 foot space I share with 9 others.
Awwww shucks, I still love it.