Wind picks up and the next thing I know, I am painting. Since the middle of last week I have been keeping watercolors in my car, on the back porch, and in my purse. I have stacks of paper cut up and ready and I just restocked paper towels and scotchtape.
There are only pockets of time to sneak in work on the small fries I'm making. Some for 6 x 6,
some for my own silly reasons, others for old friends.
There's a big difference between fitting watercolor painting into my busy life, and way back when I had a little studio and time to make messes turn into successful paintings. I think this is making me more deliberate as a painter. Here's what happened when I tried to translate this old missing painting into a new image.
, watercolor and ink on paper, maybe 1999
, watercolor and ink on paper 13.5 tall x 12.5 long, April 2010
I deliberately changed a lot. I had to. I see the world a lot differently now. Feels like it's good change; I think I see more.
Makes me wonder about the paintings (or poems, or songs, or ...) you make now and how they're different from the ones you made then. Show and tell?