My mom and one of her friends had an art sale of their paintings on Black Friday - oils, watercolors, pastels. It was inspiring to see her doing this. It was inspiring to see what they've done. My mom has only been painting for 8? 9? years, and I am in awe of her work and her dedication.
I was so inspired I pulled out all of my paints and sketched out some canvases. Then I got frustrated because I don't really know what I'm doing and I haven't quite decided what to do about that. I'm in this really folksy kind of mood. I want to make folk paintings and paintings of these weird little lumpy animals and people I've been drawing. I can draw these things and picture how I want the final product to look, but that's where it ends. I'm working on it. I am also really impatient and want immediate results. Dear brain, work with the hands please.
To update on the last post: I'm just extremely burned out on the selling end of things. Making things for these imaginary deadlines I set for myself. Trying to do too many things at once for the opportunity of more sales. Sometimes I really feel like I'm jumping up and down, waving my hands, yelling about my work, but someone hit the mute button.
Und so, I can be frustrated over the lack of time I have until the world ends or I can work with my lack of time.
Art has always been about a need to make things, not sell them. So I'm going to focus on the former and if the latter comes I'll do a little dance.
The world needs more dance parties.
This post has completely veered off course. I was actually going to write about how much I love my pony and when everything else seems pear-shaped she makes sense. Maybe tomorrow.
(cuddling with Steph)