gouache on illustration board, painted by my mother, 1947?
What felt like cozy cocooning, settling in with a cup of hot chocolate, some books and movies on DVD, and a stash of art supplies back in December is starting to feel like cabin fever. My sloppy sweatpants and bulky sweater are hiding a shape that I don't want to think about. My artwork seems to be stalled out. My employed friends are overwhelmed with their jobs and families, and my retired friends are either busy volunteering or are away somewhere warm. The plumbing has been misbehaving, and the Saturn has been suffering aches and pains of old age; we have been enriching the local economy with money paid out for repairs. Television and the news - forget about it. I've been thumbing through magazines and thinking that none of the people pictured in them look like anyone I know, but rather like like some other fitter, younger species. The winter of our discontent is here, and more snow is forecast tonight.
I'm trying exit this state of blah. I'm planning a train trip to Washington state in May, partially to do some family history research. I've been to the athletic club most days the past two weeks. I cashed in my birthday gift certificate for a pedicure today, so my toes are adorable and very cold. I matted three watercolors for an upcoming art exchange, though I wish my paintings were fresher, more original. I've been doing a personal visual journal, though it feels a little like navel gazing. I'm certainly not posting anything from that in public. Mostly I've been spending too much time on line, trying to see what other people are creating, or what they're reading. Got to stop that.
OK, I'm done whining. I know my moods are tied to the seasons. Just for fun, take the little quiz on the link below.