If it’s worth doing…


I figured something out today. I have wanted to paint. So, I painted. It is easy to do something once you begin. I am starting another blog. I intend to write down the story in my mind, the one that accompanies some of these pictures – and post them to the other blog. This one is about process – that one, as yet not created or named, is about product. Note: the dogwood trees are turning scarlet. The mosquitoes are dying. This winter, the house will be warm and golden. I am re-structuring like crazy. Trying to find a place for things, some space to remain empty. Cleaning out corners. I feel grown up. All this wanting to get things done and doing them. I have a sneaking sense that I will be crushed if I quit this. I’ve gone over a full month. I’ve only skipped two days, but made up for them with long hours with a pencil in my hand, days when two or three drawings tumbled forth.
I sometimes run across blogs that have only two or three posts, or 11 in the month of March and no more. I will be steady. I guess it is a fact of this free service that people with big ideas and a little time on their hands will establish a space to document their efforts. And then they quit. And their false starts are left up for the world to see. I will not quit this. So, there.
Yes, I got a new a printer/scanner. One of the higher ups at the museum, a joyful gentleman for whom I have great respect, said, in an off-hand way, “If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well.” So, enough with the awful, poorly lit photographs. Although their fuzzy edges and lack of detail were a bit of a comfort. It’s easy to show what you’ve made if you can rest assured that no one will really be able to see it clearly. People will see what they want to see, whether it’s true or not. Nobody but me knows if a drawing turned out the way I wanted it to. I have become more talkative about drawing. I have confessed the blog to some more people, but have not sent a mass email with the link to this page. Some people assume that because I love drawing, I must know something about art. Not so much. The discourse surrounding “art” is confusing to me. Subjective and fickle and, in a way, masturbatory for those who engage in it. I don’t really like talking about art. I don’t know what makes it good or not so good. I only know if I like to look at it or not. If it seems interesting, and, more important to me – sincere. That’s why I still can’t stand that snake+baby drawing I did a while back. A sham.

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