Old Friends

I was clearing out my stuff yesterday, mostly because my room looks like a plane just dropped a bomb on it and I wanted to be able to walk through the room without inadvertantly tripping over something and killing myself (though I have life insurance but that's not the point).

After some rooting about I discovered a half-filled sketchbook, buried under a pile of well whatever, I don't want to know what that is, which I had forgotten completely about. So I flipped through it to laugh at the abombinations I produced these few years. On the very last filled page was a half-completed drawing (of what I am not going to tell you. Nyah.) with quite a bit of detail done in already. Unable to resist I abandoned Operation Clean-up and took the sketchbook to the table.

Shoving some stuff (where do I get this much stuff anyway) off the table I proceeded to work on it awhile, adding detail andbringing out the form. Then I realised why I had never completed it. The pose was too ambitious, and I would never be able to get it right without a live model (and this much I will tell you.. the subject of the drawing does not exist in real life and therefore it is impossible to obtain a live model. Besides I wouldn't WANT to go near it if it existed). So I abandoned it. Again.

But my hand had touched the paper, and it was impossible to resist its siren call. Just the right texture for watercolour, really. Not really caring where I left my pencil and eraser, I rooted about again and managed to dig out a box of paints, which was empty. Then I remembered that being an idiot I had put all my paints in one box (artists' version of putting all your eggs in one basket) which I was now using as a footrest. So I took that out, and went on a search for my paintbrushes, which were conveniently standing in a mug in my bathroom next to my toothbrush (I do NOT brush my teeth with a paintbrush. I just keep them there because. Um. Because. Yah.)

Anyway, feeling beside myself with glee at having actually found what I was looking for (aiyah should have bought lottery, since I was on a lucky streak), I began to cheerfully sploosh paint onto paper. I didn't really know what I was doing. It felt good to be holding a brush again, for the first time in what, a year? I just randomly splooshed around, painting whatever came to mind (tomatoes, big trees, rocks, people with purple hair).

Thus passed the entire afternoon and evening. And my room is still a mess.