Inspiration: My House
Prismacolor Watercolor Pencils, Golden Fluid Acrylics, Pitt Artist Pens
This is a continuation of my exploration and honoring of my Inspiration, for my book group of 12 secrets.
This weekend was a tough one for me, as I felt I was coming down with something and I was fighting against creating at every opportunity. But there it is. I've decided that I am not going to kick myself when the inspiration and motivation isn't there. I'm going to try to keep working, but if I don't, if I need to sleep instead, or if I need to read the book that just came from Amazon, or if the kids wake up from nap early and my writing time disappears (all of which happened this weekend) then I am not going to beat myself up over it.
I'm a mom who is an artist. I'm discovering what a journey this is in its own right. It's not like it was when I was a single gal who searched out jobs where I had my days free, or my summers free, or ones that would feed my creativity. It's not like I can sit on my couch all weekend with a journal and a paint set, or go to cafes and write for two days straight. This is a new situation and it takes delicate balancing. Time with the kids, time for the house, time for the guy, time for making money, time for my physical health and well being, time to relax... and time for the creating, time for the exploring, time for the finalizing.
I am working on not struggling with my own pace, my necessarily slow pace at moving to the next step. Maybe that's why I am having problems with inspiration right now, because I am about to make some sort of leap. I hope so. I'd like it.
But, onto the painting. I have been trying to paint in whites and pales, which is how this painting began. Every time I try, I get it wrong and am unsatisfied. I manage to fix the pictures, more or less, but they don't end up being whites/pales. That's okay, I think. I realized I haven't spent much time on those shades. This kind of thing takes work and concentration and practice. You have to discover your techniques... at least I do.
So I covered over my pales and made my house. This is my house of creativity. This is my comfy couch, where I write and sketch and watch tv, and sit with my coffee and cake while I ruminate, where I enjoy company that supports my creativity. This is my studio, with computer and easel and supplies, with space to move and to think. This is my gallery of work, the body of my creative existence, collected to inspire and remember. This is my library of resources, my books, my stories, my loves, my histories, my journals. This is my rooftop view, that allows me access to sky and perspective. These are my fire escapes, my alternate way out, way up, my silent spot for rumination. My sky is alive, my ground is fertile, my roots go deep and deeper still, my tree... well, she can be many things.
My house is not real. Or it is real, but it is not physical. My physical life has very little of this. A corner with a borrowed computer. A bedroom with a typing table and an old chair. An old couch in a shared tv room, a bag of paints and carry along supplies. This is my reality.
And you know what????
Hey, I want the dream studios that I've been seeing around the web. But that's not my life right now. Right now, I do what I have to. I find my dream in the corners. I make my art on a tv table while watching the kids play. I write in snatched moments between action and action.
It doesn't matter what your creative space looks like. It doesn't matter if it's not perfect. What matters is what you do.
What spaces/times/activities find you creative, despite their imperfection? What corners of the day do you manage to snatch a few moments for your art? I'd love to know. I'm always looking for new ways to get it done.