We knew it was bound to happen. Four weeks (it has only been one) in an old convent with 12 women. Eventually background, personalities, and hormones will get in the way. It is suppose to be about the art. But after a short period of time, all the other crap comes up. I saw a cat fight today that made me think I was on the Jerry Springer show. Unfortunately, it was at our lunch table. Both women were artists, both women I really like. Both were ready to tear each other’s hair out.
Before I left my sister said to me “I hope it fills all of your expectations.” I thought, “I don’t really have any, except to paint everyday.” I have done that.
There are two kinds of artists out there. The ones that want to be artists, and the ones that ARE artists. Your work, your galleries, your fame and your connections have nothing to do with being an ARTIST, or not. The ONLY thing that dictates this state of being IS your state of being. If you call yourself an artist, and you are dedicated to the work, then you are an artist. It takes nothing more.
Today, I missed my kids. I woke up this morning without a schedule. I had breakfast, did my laundry, and looked forward to the day. Repeated attempts to skype my family, and the Jerry Spriger display at the lunch table left me feeling home sick. Yesterday I felt like three more weeks was not even close to enough. It would take much more time to create the works I needed! Today, I wondered if I could live another 24 hours without seeing my kids.
Finally we met on Skype. They in their pj’s, me entering happy hour. They sang and danced, literally “on the day that you were born the angels got together and decided to create a dream come truuuuuuoooouuuu… and they sprinkled gold dust in your hair and …la, la, la, la, la, your eyes of blue”….
I used to know every word. I used to sing it to them when they were babies. Now they know every word, and they sing it to me when I’m feeling like a baby.
I painted a self-portrait today. Scary. Tomorrow I will look at it again, likely scrap it, and start over. If only life were that easy to start over…
Actually, there is not that much that I would change.
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