I have to ask: Where did that TERRIBLE word BLOG come from? It sounds like something you should be telling your little children NOT TO DO, EVER. Well, not in public, anyway. But since I'm well past the stage of telling my children ANYTHING (it never ever worked, as I recall), and GOD FORBID they should think I¹m not up there and trendy and WITH IT, here I am, BLOGGING.My mother is turning in her grave. She does that a lot, I think.
Okay, so here goes.
Pinned to my easel is a cartoon I clipped from a magazine many years ago.
It depicts an artist sitting in front of a blank canvas, SURROUNDED by many more canvases. ALL TOTALLY BLANK. And he is explaining to his friend 'Some days are magic, some are not'.
Well, he's got THAT right. I've had days when things have gone from bad to worse with a painting and I'm blaming everything, but EVERYTHING, on my lack of training (I do this a LOT) and trying not to cut my throat. So I solve the problem with my usual flair and inventiveness, which is to say, I clean my brushes, go home, and pour myself a stiff gin-and-tonic.
And I'll probably cook. Now, cooking is therapy in itself. All that alchemy and creativeness and artistry (or so they tell me) and if it doesn't work out, you can always pitch it in the bin and order takeout. It¹s a highly recommended antidote to the painting blues. Just don't forget the gin-and-tonics..
