Tuesday, September 11, 2007
It's ironic really...
It's not for lack of desire, I want to paint something brilliant, something that counts. I want to paint something that makes you feel...right in the heart. I want it bad. It's not for lack of work. I've been working hard, getting up at 4:50a.m. I'm trying to keep my body and mind healthy. I'm even drinking water. I haven't been indulging in social engagements, just fundamental family responsibilities. I'm finding the the daily rituals of motherhood very satisfying and challenging...so it's not about being off balance or guilt. It's not for lack of ideas. I have so many ideas that I could paint for a year with just what I've written down in my sketchbook this week alone. My ideas are good...about real and symbolic refuge. It's not for lack of emotion, I have plenty of that. My heart is so engorged with emotion that it aches to be drained...even just a little bit.
I have no reasons; no excuses. Maybe my soul has moved to a level my skills can't catch up with. Does metamorphosis require a chain of painful failures? Maybe someone put a curse on me. If so...enough. Please.
I've never had this happen to me for more than a day or two.
The Polly Holliday's...a dramatic simulation