Friday, January 28, 2011

The battle

A fuzzy distraction named Pono
 The sun wakes me up - that and a dog, breathing stinky breath in my face.  The minute I open my eyes, his tail starts to wag.  I climb out of bed.  One of the first thoughts is about upcoming exhibits, and the art in progress in my studio.  Caffeine comes first, then a walk or run with the dog.  Feed the dog, feed myself.  I wander into the studio as I wait for hot water to boil for tea.  I NEED to paint today.  The dishes must be washed.  The bed gets made.  I shower and dress, brush my teeth and floss.  Then, I realize that there are emails to be answered.  The gallery needs an image of one of the new paintings.  I have to confirm dinner plans.  I boot up the computer, feeling itchy as the hours pass.  I am still not painting.  I finish the work on the computer and go into the studio.  The dog needs to go outside.  I take him out.  I go back into the studio and pick up a brush.  The phone rings.  I set the brush down.  I finish the phone conversation, and pick the brush up again.  I study the painting on the easel.  The music playing is bothering me.  I set the brush down and search for the perfect music.  (There has to be music in our collection that will help me paint.)  I find something and push "play."  I pick the brush up again.  I mix paint.  I don't know what to do with the painting on the easel.  I take it off the easel.  I put another one up on the easel.  I sit down, studying this new painting.  I don't know what to do with this one either.  I take it off the easel.  Now I am getting irritated with myself.  I put the first one back up on the easel.  I mix more paint.  I decide to draw for a while.  That will most certainly help!  I sit at my desk, open the sketchbook and draw.  That helps.  I stand up, pick up the brush AGAIN, and decide it's now or never.  I make a mark.  I make another.  The music ends.  I have to find more music.  I set the brush down.  I play with the stereo.  I pick the brush up yet again.  Where was I?  I look at the painting.  I make a mark.  The painting is getting worse.  I set the brush down and go into the kitchen.  Pour more tea.  Eat a cookie.  I wander into the bedroom and realize the laundry is spilling over the top of the basket.  I could start laundry.  No, I need to go BACK IN TO THE STUDIO.  This is getting painful now.  I pick up the damn brush one more time and decide it doesn't matter, I just need to paint.  Ugly painting or no.  I make a mark, then another....  

At last.  I am working. 

Joshua Tree, morning.  Charcoal on paper, 7 x 5 inches.  ©kswenson2011
Have a fantastic weekend, you crazy cats!

3 comments:

Patty said...

Been there with you sistah!! Some days it's all we can do to put brush to canvas. Hang in there!

Tina Bluefield said...

I wonder if Steve Pressman would call this resistance? Powerful stuff...
xo

Abby Creek Art said...

Great post, Karine...funny and painful at the same time. I can relate!