Yes. It's official. I have a very deep old-fashioned streak in my head.
Where does all this come from? I still don't know.
But it's there. And I am painting my heart out.
This was done in our living room. We have a really beautiful view
to the sea. I thought this would be the perfect August painting.
For this year anyway. The whole summer was dark and then
right at the end and the beginning of September we were
gifted with some gorgeous sunny days.
But I got restless painting only in the house and turned
my car into a studio/cocoon. (you know I need the cocoon) I drive around
until something calls out. Then I paint directly, and as fast as I can.
The thing is, I am in a huge learning curve, because painting in this
manner after so many years is like trying to speak in the French you
haven't spoken since highschool (and you only passed your courses then because you were
cheating in a creative way). And it's a bit like going to the gym. I do
lots of moaning and groaning and protesting, and have to battle with myself
to just start! Once I start it's all good. By the end I am ecstactic. The
next morning I am trying to find a way out of going to the mobile studio again.
Oh no it's sooo hard. I can't deal with this. My life is a mess. I want to go
back to bed. Wake me up next spring. Rub my feet. Feed me treats.
But then I paint. And I get through the day.
And I am happy.
And that is good enough.