Windy, 44 degrees

 I cursed the wind this morning.  Not because I felt that it would make a difference - I know better than that.  I was running against the wind, and every step seemed to take an incredible amount of effort.  It felt like the only thing propelling me forward was my obstinate will.  It felt the same way everything else in life has seemed to me lately.  Life feels hard right now.  It feels like running against the wind, all day, every day.  So finally, today, while running, I cursed it all.  I yelled.  I used all of the best expletives I wasn't allowed to use growing up.  It didn't really make the run any easier.  The wind didn't let up.  The one thing it did do was release the frustration that has been building within me, and it made me feel better.  It also allowed me the chance to laugh at myself.  How silly is it, to yell curses at wind???  It's pretty silly.  But sometimes that is what it takes, I guess.  At least I know that the wind won't suffer from hurt feelings.

We are on the third day of cold wind, and today some rain was added into the mix, making for the kind of day where all one wants to do is curl up under a blanket with a cup of hot tea.  One also tends to fantasize about frosted cupcakes, or cookies, hot out of the oven.  It must have something to do with needing extra fat and sugar to stay warm.  That's my theory.  Of course, there were no cupcakes being delivered to my door, despite all of my wishful thinking, and I make an effort to not have cookies in the house, to prevent overeating of sugar on days just like this one.   Not that I was spared from opening the pantry door about 5 times, just in case I had missed a cookie in the back corner.  I finally resorted to a piece of sugarless gum.  A poor substitute, when you can visualize the swirling icing atop a perfectly made cupcake.

It has been difficult to keep up with the blog, as of late, because I have been busy painting.  Everything I have to say is said in the paintings.  It is more than a little perplexing to me that an artist is supposed to be able to talk and write about a painting, when painting is really beyond verbal communication.  I have been pushed, over and over again to describe my work, write about it, and explain it.  Honestly, if I felt I could say it with words, I would be a writer!!!  I can't say it with words, despite my repeated efforts to do just that.  I will still try, of course I will.  But if you really want to know what the paintings are about, you need to look at them.  You need to spend time with them, just as you would when you are just getting to know a new friend.  I think if a person was to spend time with a painting, and let it say what it has to say, they would not need my explanation.  We are so in love with words.  We think that words are the only way to communicate.  We have convinced ourselves that words will explain and clarify.

"Inferno."  Oil on canvas, 12 x 9 inches.  ©karine swenson11

I am not so sure of that.

I recently read a quote by Albert Einstein that I have been rolling over and over in my mind:
"Everybody is a genius.  But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid."
(a big thank you to Marcia Yudkin for putting that quote in her weekly email newsletter.)

Today was my mother's birthday.  She recently asked me on the phone where I get my rebellious nature.  Upon reflection, I believe quite a bit of it comes from her.  Mom, I admire you and love you.  Happy birthday.  Here's a bunny painting for you, because I know how much you like them:

"Sniffing."  Oil on board, 9 x 12 inches.  ©karine swenson11