I’m Sorry for Wanting So Much

That is what the title of the bewildered rooster amidst the eggs would be. Drawing has been daily – and I mean daily in the most mundane sense of the word. My great-grandmother used to say, “Life is wonderful, but it’s just so daily.” Actually, I am not sure if she ever said this, even once. My mother told me that she did. However, it is entirely likely that my mother mistakenly lifted this quote from a Fannie Flagg novel or some such place.
It’s funny what we remember and what we do not. Half my memories are false, I’m almost positive. For years I thought I had been to New York. I’d have to correct myself often in thinking about my travels there, the way the light reflects off of buildings at the open and close of day…sigh…
But, I’d never, ever been there. I just constructed an impression of the city based on the anecdotes and images that pervade our common history. Oh, New York. Likewise with the desert. I feel an affinity for the bone-dry and sun-baked landscape that in not in proportion to my relatively few brief passages along those hot highways. American folklore makes us love these places, American culture makes us think that we’ve all been there.
How to connect this with artistic process, I have no idea. Like I was saying, drawing has been fairly daily. I’m drawing every day, but I’m not swept into the lines everyday. I’ve gotten fairly efficient, more confident, more perceptive but less critical. Drawing doesn’t transport me the way it did back in the “I, uh…draw sometimes, but not really.” days – but, I somehow love it more because it seems to come so much easier. But, I’m definitely going through a stretched-thin week. firstdayofkindergartentomorrowabirthdayworkretreatsandchestcoldsrearrangingthehouse
andtedkennedyisdeadanditsjustbeenthreedays
I hope that I’ll be able to paint this weekend. I really like painting – it brings out more of the story. Like Culture Shock said – “The blood runs redder on color TV.”

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