Along the lines of making myself write every day, I have been re-connecting with a regular art practice. It’s been centuries since I made art in anything but fits and bursts, so this is a big one.
I can’t admit to art-making every day yet, but hopefully I’ll habit my way into that way of life. Seriously, though, how much time do I have to make and write when there’s SO MUCH to scroll through on Instagram?
I’m trying to not think of social media and email as my arch enemies, and rather learn to allow them into my life in scheduled moderation. How addicted are you guys? Isn’t it crazy how quickly all of this computer and phone bullshit can become the first things we think of turning to, in virtually every situation? Even sex. Don’t you just love to Netflix and screw?
I’m trying to remind myself to think like I did when I was a kid and go flop on my belly on the floor and color, or hole up somewhere and read a book. Just thinking of doing these things makes me feel warm inside. Conversely, thinking about hopping online for an hour does not fill me with the happy.
Another thing that fills me with the happy? PAINTING!
I can’t believe how many times while painting I have muttered to myself something along the lines of, ‘this is so fun’, or ‘oh my god look at that color next to that one oh my god.’
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I feel so happy every time I look at my wall of little striped paintings that I’ve made so far, all lined up and exploding with color. And the best part? I didn’t copy anyone, I didn’t make what I thought would sell well, I didn’t follow any trend, and I’m enjoying the hell out of myself.
See the trend from yesterday’s post? Boy do I get in my head a lot.
The last time I regularly made paintings, from around ages 25-32, I got into an awful rut where I was selling pretty much anything I could paint, so I became a slave to production. I eventually tried to joylessly churn out the paintings while working an exhausting full time job and making my bar rounds in the evenings with my girl gang.
I’m guarding my creative sanity this time, and finding so much pleasure in the reawakening. Being in my 40’s definitely has its mental advantages.
It also pushes you of course, to do something meaningful before you croak, so I’m taking this stuff seriously – the important stuff. You know it when it tugs at you. What’s your important stuff?