That is what my husband calls it. I have a different view of all 3 words – art – journal – therapy. I don’t see how spreading materials all over the tables, floor and shelves, grabbing this and that, coloring, painting, this is not how a real artist works? Certainly, I don’t need so much stuff to simply write in a journal. And I guess everything is a form of therapy these days.
So my desk starts to look like this:
That might seem like chaos. To those who have not wandered into the world of art supplies. It is like a cult. So many different pots and containers, all serving different purposes, giving different effects. All one can do is start. Laying down some of this and a little of that. Notice the effect and move on. Watch others. Covet more art supplies.
Or dig into my bins. Notice the plural. I discovered gouache paints I used about 24 years ago. It is amazing to me they survived all the moves, all the purging of excess possessions over the years. There they were, dried to hard little tubes.
Then I realized it has been a long time since I’ve applied myself to creating any kind of art. I use that term loosely. But, the only reason I ever owned gouache paint was for an assignment at school. I even own a palette. And it was used!
After getting over the amazement of how fast time has flown by and how little hands on, creative stuff I have produced in recent memory, I got down to it. And I have enjoyed myself over the past few nights.
Of course I can’t be alone. When my daughter realized there was going to be paint, she had to get in on the action. At first I didn’t like how much she talked. Kind of a babbling banter, asking me to look at her stuff every few minutes. And we have to play modern pop music, which can seriously grate on my nerves sometimes. But we have found a rhythm. I’m more relaxed and she is more comfortable to just be. (She even copied one of my pages tonight!)
So here are a few of my pages of fun!