I have so many paints and paint brushes. I am really good at up-cycling and experimenting. I look at, at least one of my WIP’s a day. (Works in progress.) I think to myself “I could make that idea happen with some flicks of a brush, if I could just focus.”
Eventually I build myself up to do it, fail and improvise. Such is life, right?
Sometimes I stumble into perfection. That is usually when I go with the flow and suspend judgement. Other times I strive for a vision I am incapable of creating to par. Art may be the one thing besides bowling and frisbee golf that I give myself leniency on. It isn’t the score or adoration… it’s the enjoyment and pay off of participation. Little fucks given and beer or wine can be invited. Simple, adaptable and easily transparent.
Currently I am working on a piece that is well over two years old that has seen at least six treatments. Tonight I decided to hone in on that mess. It’s better but no where near where I want it to be. It’s okay, I have no desire to insert manic OCD into my works… but it does mean I will work for a while and then take another hiatus to process my next steps.
Some people train hard for art… some people just let it stew and purge when needed. I am the latter type of artist. The only thing gained is my pleasure and occasionally some coins in my purse.
Recently a woman contacted me because she bought one of my pieces at a car wash over a decade ago. I simply thought that it was cool that she reached out and went on with life.
My one consistent with art is I enjoy making it. I step into another place when I do, and as much as it is about me keeping myself calm; it is about those who love a piece and find it speaks to them.
I write the same way. I am not trying to tie an underlying thread, it just happens that way.
Perhaps that is Sophia? Perhaps that is the Holy Spirit?