I don't know if it's because of the changing light of autumn or just because I got a full 8+ hours of sleep, but there's something magical in waking on a Sunday morning — coffee cup in hand — and being completely inspired to make art.
Do I paint with watercolors, or maybe acrylics, or do I create some ink drawings? I go back and forth, deciding on my tools and my medium — my mode of transport to get whatever creative magic from inside my being, out — and into the world.
It's my raw drive, my spiritual push into the universe. At least, that's what it feels like.
It's my raw drive, my spiritual push into the universe. At least, that's what it feels like.
Nothing else will do. I can go downtown on Sunday morning and walk around our charming little farmer's market and pick up an amazing pastry or maybe some apples or locally harvested honey—but my mind is like the transcendental silver string that connects me to—and never leaves—my place where I create art.
I want to choose the brushes, the colors, I think about watercolor painting and I imagine the movement, the flow and spread of color in the water, the bloom, the transparency, the drying, the contemplation of the next layer.
Without any formal training, thoughts of rules—and fear of not following them—try to push into my mind. I push them away.
Without any formal training, thoughts of rules—and fear of not following them—try to push into my mind. I push them away.
I want to create something new, to pull it out from inside myself - I know that it's there, I can feel it all the time. I think about how I can get it out of me and into the world. But even that's not really enough for me. I want to make something beautiful. I try.
It doesn't have to be fantastic or amazing — it only has to be.
Have a great Sunday!
love,
love,
Laura
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