I was rummaging around on my shelves for something and noticed my pastels. It's been forever since I did anything with them, so I decided to get them out and spread colored dust around my house. Well, that wasn't my original intent, but it's what obviously happened. I also discovered that whatever the medium, I can make myself crazy with it and waste entirely too much time.
The girl is part of an illustration I did for Mensa's monthly magazine. The accompanying article is about grammar, specifically the sentence, "The maiden held the white lily in her delicate fist". The point being that "fist" and "delicate" aren't usually put together. This is what it looks like in the actual magazine...
You'd think the fist would be a bother, but it was ridiculously quick and easy. I just tortured myself on everything else, and I don't really know why. Perhaps at some level I can't separate my art from myself? I still see things I'd rather fix, but sometimes you just have to be done with it. Making her a twin was easy in PhotoShop.
|Twin brothers plus an extra brother|
There's a Twins Days festival near me, "the largest annual gathering of twins (& other multiples) in the world!" I could never get my twin brothers to go to it even though twins from around the world show up. I've got a friend who is a twin too. He doesn't go either. I think it must be hard to be seen as a whole human being instead of half of a set. Heck, it's hard enough for me not to get compared to regular siblings in a big family.
I finished my latest art therapy painting, but since there isn't anything in it even remotely "twin" in it I guess I'll show you how it turned out next week. I took the painting out drinking yesterday. That was fun. There was an actual reason why I did it. The painting is about my last job and I was drinking with my friends from that job. I sat it on the bench in the booth and my friends played Where's Waldo with it. Our waitress told us about her frustrated art studies too.
I told you last week that while I am justifiably angry and sad about things at the last job, I actually feel like I took away more good than bad from it. After all, I was out drinking with my buddies and talking art, laughing about the old days, shaking our heads over the stupidity that's still going on over there. Done! I smiled happily when I varnished the painting. Done with the past stress, done with the painting. Onto the next!
Preparing for my next art therapy painting, I read my folder for the job before this last. Oh my. That job was horrible. It was even more horrible than the last job. My jaw was clenched for 2 days after reading that folder. It might still be clenched for that matter. I suppose it didn't help to also read the folder on an interim job I had after that.
But the thing is, I'm actually looking forward to painting the next painting. I left that job 10 years ago. There's no good reason to still have jaw-clenching feelings about those people. Time to speak my mind, express myself, let it go, and immortalize more sinners through art. Yay!
Even my little girl art was art therapy in a way. Maybe all art is?