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, June 29, 2012
Just keep swimming, just keep swimming...
Friday in the little yellow house. I started to post this, then realized it was looking a little flat and a lot messy, so I straightened that out. Now have an opus of koi. Working on my white horse opus, next. Really, I need to get more instructions, work on my STYLE, which is, as always, elusive as hell. I was reading about IMPORTANT art, RELEVANT art, in other words, New York art. Apparently, it should reflect our culture, make social statements, be edgy and cutting. In other words, UGLY. Drab, colorless, depressing and downright bizarre. I don't even want to look at that art, much less create it. I have been depressed for many of my years here on the Big Blue Ball. I don't need reminders of that darkness hanging on my walls. Okay, fish are remarkably prosaic. Ditto birds, horses, cows. Tigers, lynx and lions are a little more jazzy. Still, I am refreshed by these paintings. My soul feels lightened up, just knowing there are these wondrous creatures in the world. I look at my egret every day, all curled into itself, that look of infinite knowing in its eye, refreshing. Yes, that's me. Little old prosaic me, just wanting some wonder and beauty, some that I made myself.