Sixty-something woman shares ruminations as she plys the latter third of her life with the caveat that age entitles her to be absolutely outrageous whenever possible.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Don't know if there is anything wrong, but life seems so tedious these days. Little headache that never seems to go away. Bane of my existence. Though I am happy there is not some great big awful disease gnawing away at me, there little irritating symptoms keep pecking away in the background. So I decided to ignore them, took myself over to Target where, FINALLY, I found a jar opener I can live with, and some other intimate items for other pesky age-related problems. And came home to work on this new pastel. I think it is coming up rather well. And that is what happens, the image just emerges, rises up from the paper , defines itself, says "lighter value here, please" and "okay, this part is done, work somewhere else". As usual, I am not happy till the whole image is there, filling up the space. Oh, my. I am liking this one. Lots of color. Lots of values. Lots of sweetness, without the coy thing happening. Off to take a pill for my headache, and keep plugging away at the art. Letting my daemon out to play.