I make stuff. Also, ponies.

I'm feeling very fired up about making things. Jewelry things. Collagey things. Photo things.

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)