We make our plans and life has a way of rearranging them. The same thing happens with artwork. We start out with a sketch, hoping to turn it into a similar painting. Something happens and it turns into something either just a little different, or changes into something unalike what we had in our minds.
This painting is no exception. At this point, it doesn’t look much like a painting. The colors are as close to the original as I can get. Artworks just don’t look the same once you scan or photograph them. Well, that’s how it is for me, anyway. So, I used a program to make the scanned copy look more like my painting.
The image also looks a little different than my sketch. I decided to put a glove on one hand. You might interpret the meaning of the glove differently than I do. Years down the road, we might both look at this image differently. That’s because life changes our perspectives.
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Once in a while, a bit of wisdom flashes across my tired brain cells and I feel compelled to share:
Procrastinating is a verb. That means I am doing something, right?
Who says procrastination means doing nothing? Procrastinate is a verb.
“Procrastinating” is the verb of the day. I should say, “was”. I procrastinated for about four hours. I checked all my email accounts, facebook, looked through my pics, ate bad food, did all the things necessary in putting off what I should be doing. What I should have been doing had nothing to do with art, btw. I should have been making two phone calls.
I finally got tired of clicking and noshing and decided to call the insurance company and the provider’s offices. Did I mention I don’t like making phone calls to offices? The first call greeted my ears with something that sounded like someone was strangling a bird. My apologies to other sensitive, visual thinkers. The second call had not only a call menu, but a few sub-menus. Yes, I said sub-menus. These are the reasons why I was procrastinating in the first place. This always happens when I call these people.
One thing I don’t procrastinate on is art. In fact art has become one of the things I do to procrastinate. It’s a way of producing something so I won’t feel so guilty for procrastinating.
Lately, I’ve been working on illustrations for a local author’s book. This is a first for me. I’ve made several attempts to fit this guy’s descriptions. I finally did a really good drawing and I’m waiting for him to get back to me. Despite a family crisis and not feeling well, along with the holidays happening, I’ve been able to produce several drawings. This is one of my failed attempts. Have a good day!
Have you ever had an idea or a thought that kept you awake? As a creative person, I get lots of those. They’re the birds on the tree branch, right outside your bedroom window. Their chirping soon gives way to to screeching. All you can do is roll over, put the pillow over your head, and hope the moon lulls the birds to sleep.
They say the best way to have the upper hand with your enemy is to know them. What if that enemy only exists in your thoughts? I could write a little description of the inner critic, make up some list of their tactics, tell you how to avoid them.. I’ve decided against doing that.
I pondered this whole subject of the inner critic for a while. I thought maybe I had an entire legion of them. I thought they ran around my brain, masquerading as everyone who ever hurt me, saying all the nasty things every bully ever said to me, stopping me from doing the things I want to do and the things I need to do. I thought they made excuses for me and helped me conjure up reasons why I can’t do some things.
Psychologists, life coaches, and writers have made lots of money off of those who think the inner critic exists. I’m an artist. That means I challenge traditional thought. Today I’ve decided to challenge the idea that an inner critic actually exists. As long as I think I’ve got an inner critic challenging my creativity, I don’t have to produce art.
I can’t sit around and eat cheese doodles, waiting until this figment of my imagination, this so-called inner critic, goes away. I’ve just got to stop believing in her. Cheese doodles only serve to give us orange lips and fat on our hips.