Have you ever sat on your bed and cleaned all the spaces around you that are in reach? Well I have. I do. I am. I have been cleaning my room since yesterday. JC has taken away one large, heavy Hefty bag. The second bag is half full. It's all paper. At least two young trees worth. All that work means I've earned a little time to play. So I am. This is it. I get to do write a single post and post a single photo.
Drawing is one of the easiest things to do. I remember when I was so afraid of failure I didn't allow myself to create anything. Drawings and painting bumped around inside my head for years. I looked at lot. I examined everything. I watched people. It bothered the men in my life when they "caught" me watching women. Not knowing any better, I'd say, "Well, why not? She's beautiful. Look at her long graceful neck, the way her hips move, and her nose is . . ." I watched children. I took mental notes of babies, puppies, bird poo and . . . Well, everything.
I was so good in drawing class. I love the human body. My favorite books are art books with page after page of beautiful studies of anatomy. Guess what hangs over my bed.
The print was a gift from a friend when we lived in Colorado. It traveled me across America and back, and has hung for a little over a year. Yes, the blur is intentional. Two other prints belong to the set but you know how it is. So. Even the master made mistakes. I was surprised and disappointed to discover they didn't get everything right either.
This has to be my most prized book. If I had to leave home in a hurry I would grab this to take with me. I seldom accuse myself of being good at something, but I used to be a great caricaturist. I even earned my way with this skill. Remember the great caricatures that once graced the cover of TV Guide? Well, I met the artist who did them when he visited our school. I sat at his feet. He asked a question no one else knew the answer to. He asked "What's a caricature?" No performance anxiety held me back. My hand shot up and he pointed to me. I didn't choke. I answered. He said I was right. He didn't choose me when he asked for volunteers to have their caricature done. Hurt feeling will lose you a fan every time. He chose students all around me, yet did not choose me. I cooly rose, turned around, and walked away. His loss. Chances are, he's dead, but I still remember the snub. I feel it. The ache is still fresh. Hmm. I really must sit in front of a mirror and do my own.
Where . . . ? Okay. If I say it all today I won't have anything left for tomorrow.
Kindness is a wonderful thing. Kindness is awesome therapy. It's the unexpected gentle reminders that people think you matter that provide gentle strokes that heal and encourage a soul to do better. Elle sent me seeds from a Rose of Sharon given to her by her beloved brother. I cherish them. Are you ever so touched by a gift or an act that you cannot deal with it at the moment it happens? No? Yes? It happens to me a lot. I am overwhelmed by goodness and don't know how to respond. I'm getting better at it but . . . And Lucy aka phonelady sent me seeds in the cute little envelope to the right. I will plant anything that will grow! Elle? Phonelady? Y'all know this about me, right? Surely you do, so thank you. Thank you with all the joy and gladness a mystery brings. I planted several of your seeds today, Elle. Phonelady, I hope JC will sow a few of your lovely Partridge Pea seeds this weekend.
Elle, I put them in here. I think this is so pretty. Do you like it too?
When you can't write, sketch! It doesn't matter so much if you forget the feet. Thus sayeth the Fat Chick. Erin said, "That egg's too big!" I say, "Wait until you see what comes out." Write on. Oh. But first, do y'all ever visit Soulemama? Don't you just love Annabelle's chicks? Heck, they're all fat! I mean, Adelaide! Adelaide's chicks are all fat. Or is it Adele?