The sun is shining after a rather dreary morning. I did some laundry and hung my clothes on the line. My painting friends think hanging clothes on the line is so cool - very hippie - green - etc. I just think the clothes smell good when they have been sun dried. If that makes me a hippie, so be it. Was my mother a hippie, 'cause we've both been hanging clothes out all our lives?
After tutoring, I painted with the Ladies, yesterday. By the time I got there, ate some lunch, and settled in, I only had time for a little painting - a frayed tulip, I'm afraid. Sometimes it takes time to get into your right mind - the painting mode. When painting with people, I'm not sure I ever really go to that special place in my head where it is just me and my art. Nope, I talk too much for that, and I'm a bit hyper if you can believe that. Painting and talking is not a problem for me; I am a woman and therefore a multi-tasker. Would I like to go to that special art place? Yes, but it is not so easy to line everything up - time, painting, emotion. Now, I really sound like a hippie.
Years ago, my old art teacher invited me to his new studio. He sat me down at the pottery wheel and threw down a lump of clay and said, "Have at it." It had been since college that I had thrown a pot, but I put my hands to the clay and centered it. Then I opened it and drew it up to a vessel. It just all came back to me so easily. It was a great feeling. When I shared that thought with Toby, he bought me a wheel and a kiln - gotta love that man. Since then, I have screwed up more pots than not. But I long for that feeling of hitting the mark. Now and then I get that feeling while doing a painting, but it h as been a while. I need to focus.
But the dogs are laying in the sun, and I want to join them.