Never let it be said that an old dog can’t learn new tricks. Without the assistance of a rolled-up newspaper or spitting T’s (anyone remember Barbara Woodhouse?), I learned new tricks for watercolor techniques that were fun and cool. Fun and Cool, you say, Dawn? Yes, fun and cool. What do I gotta do? Well, you can go here and check it out: http://www.watercolorpainting.com/ and click on Tutorials. Finally, the kitchen becomes the perfect studio: the kosher salt isn’t hard to get to, nor is the plastic wrap and paper towels. If the bathroom is the only studio available, the toothbrushes (any child’s will do ~ it’s not like they actually use them) and rubbing alcohol as well as toilet paper are handy. From the dining room, the tall tapers could be used for resist painting. Raid the kids’ rooms for stubs of crayons. With the plethora of maddening choices, it’s hard to choose just one for a painting. Then it’s a good reason to do a whole bunch of paintings. I’m running out of paper though. (I really need a benefactor. Isn’t there like a Benefactors.com or something? Just click and wait for the check in the mail.)
Artists’ Block? What Artists’ Block? My Inner Bohemian Artist has returned from my left pinky toe and she’s ready for action. I’m working on multiple paintings at once. As one technique dries, I’m working on another dried piece and developing it more. I just need to keep the momentum, maintain the discipline, stoke the fires. Leftover chili with cheese won’t do it. Maybe Hagan Daz (or my new name for it: Hips ’n’ A$$), but not leftover chili. For an artist to keep those muscles flexed, one must paint/draw everyday (then knit/spin/weave every night). It’s maddening when a professor is right. It’s probably the best advice I’ve ever gotten from Collegiate Academia. Otherwise, I feel it stunted my artistic growth; which is why I didn’t pick up a brush again until I had Bennie (that’d be 1998). Since then, I’ve been in recovery. Right now this activity feels like a long-overdue shot in the arm.
As mentioned, I’ve been maintaining my knitting practice at night working on Evan’s socks. I’m at the foot of the first one, having turned the heel two days ago. I don’t know if there’s a sock-knitting god to appease, but I’m praying these socks fit well when done. What would a sock-knitting god’s name be? I mean, if we wanted to make one up, what could we name it? Heelturndle? Heelestia? Tippytoesian? We could have the Heelusian Mysteries and supplicants would wear nothing but socks; they’d be practicing sock-clad (borrowing fashion ideas from the Red Hot Chili Peppers, if desired). Okay, enough of that nonsense. Although, it is a thought . . .
And on a final note, I’ve heard that this blog is being randomly checked by the Apostrophe Police. I was alerted to inappropriate apostrophe usage a blog or two back and received a five-yard yarn penalty. I don’t know what that means, but suffice it to say that even I sometimes generate the occasional typo. Look kindly on me.
An image from the files for yucks and gigs ~ just to add some visual flavor since the camera has rendered me visually impaired.