Painted 2.14.17 and 2.15.17
I took a few days off. I wasn’t feeling particularly inspired, or rather, I was feeling all kinds of confused. Many emotions coming up but unsure how that would translate to page. Something felt stuck and maybe it just wasn’t ready to come out. I was also PMS’ing / on my period and that is always a rather tumultuous time of month. Irrational, volatile, and altogether frustrating. Can you imagine? Articles and books describe it as the body sloughing off cells from inside of your body. FUCKING. GROSS. Slough? What is this? Like, someone with leprosy or some shit. Disgusting. So yes, everyone was annoying the fuck out of me and all I felt like doing was rolling up into a ball and crying my eyes out thinking about things from the past that I have no business thinking about. And that’s exactly what I did. But I want to be very clear, this was not crying because I was feeling sorry for myself, or sad because I didn’t have someone to spend Valentine’s Day with. This was the kind of completely nonsensical emotional rollercoaster that happens because my body is getting rid of all that could have been the beginnings of a child (which might be the only thing worse than having to deal with bleeding out of your body for days on end – lesser of two gross annoyances, whatever).
On the contrary, Valentine’s Day was quite a success in my book. I had a very productive day at work, got in a great rope workout, stuffed my face with (meat)balls and caught up with some friends.
I came home in pretty high spirits and felt the need to paint, even if I wasn’t really FEELING it. Sometimes it helps to just sit down. So I started. I had a vague something in my head. I thought I knew I wanted the canvas to be split, somehow. I wasn’t sure why but I started there. I created a break in the canvas – one side was darker, the other lighter. Brighter.
As my paintings tend to do, this one also went the route of what the fuck? I have no idea. I ended up with one side kind of pretty and the other all kinds of crazy lines all over the place. Honestly, I was on the phone with a cherished friend. He claims he accidentally dialed me, but I know he just wanted to hear my voice and my funny jokes. It was actually kind of cool because my brain was completely occupied as I chatted away making sexual innuendos and other dirty, flirty jokes because what the hell – it’s Valentine’s Day. I wasn’t thinking really at all about the painting and just did what felt good. An interesting experience. I wish I could say that this led to a beautiful painting but no, it just looked weird. And it was 1am. And I still wanted to read. So I put it aside to finish up another day.
It’s weird that even though I am painting over it each day, and constantly adding and changing things, there’s still a sense of when one day’s painting is done or not done. Is there some kind of symbolism I’m skipping over here? Maybe.