I think I'm back now. I'm not positive since my beautiful aunt's memorial is on Saturday, but I'll try. I think it might be awhile till I can get back to writing with much of a sense of humour, but I'll continue to write anyway. You'll just have to bear with me for awhile, ok?
Of course, I could feel that way because it's currently 7:40am on a Sunday so my body is screaming at me to GO. BACK. TO. BED. Pleaaaaaase.
However, despite the rain currently pattering on my window panes, I woke up with a forest of images in my head that I've got to get on paper. See, in an attempt to 1) live my life with colour and noise as an antidote to death (as suggested by Mel Brooks) , and 2) honour the person that my aunt was and the spirit she passed on to me, I've been throwing myself into my art. That seems like a pretentious thing to call it - "my art" - since currently it consists of me sprawled on the floor with an arsenal of pens, pencils, paintbrushes and sketchbooks scattered around me. Not exactly high-brow, and no great masterpieces being produced here! So far there's been a lot of nature studies - flowers, trees, birds, and one pensive girl in a ridiculous dress sitting in a sort of hazy meadow in the forest. It's very angsty. I'm quite proud of it anyway since I usually completely fail at drawing people. Plus, the Mister said it was the most "arty" of everything I've done so far since it's all done in watercolours. High praise, no? Maybe not. I'm keeping it anyway.
One good thing to come out of all this paint covered introspection is that I've got a commission to create a series of three high fashion drawings, a la Project Runway. Alright, so the commissions are from a friend, but I'm still counting it as a foray into official artist-dom.
So now I'm off to paint.