Oil on canvas, 12x12
I've had a stretch lately where it feels like my life is flying off in a thousand directions and I'm grabbing after it, snatching at the air as wisps and shards mostly slip through my fingers.
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Partly, this is because, suddenly, I have a jillion commitments. So part of it is real. Part of it, though, has come because I've abandoned the discipline that acted as the tent pole in the center of this circus.
So I am back to making and posting a painting every day. And that's what I should do. I am a painter, after all, not a housecleaner, cook, gardener, swimmer or student. I am a painter - and a writer - and I have drifted.
Now, the drifting is over. I have cat paintings to paint, and the horizons are calling me. Next week, after I deliver my painting to the school in Baltimore, I am going to drive out to the Eastern Shore and paint out there for a day or so. And who knows what I will see on my way? Last year at this time, I was just setting out for Arizona. And again, my eyes and heartbeat quicken, and I long to be gone, seeing something new, painting something new, being reborn again.
Thanks for reading.