I've been resting my writing muscle lately. Not by choice you understand, it's just worked out that way. I kind of feel as though the part of me that makes words appear, has wrapped itself up in tin foil and thrown itself on the $40 barbeque we picked up at a yard sale last month.
I blame Geoff. Of course I do.
The thing is -- while searching for buoys in the basement (this makes sense if you live with us), Geoff found my magic apron.
Discovered in an abandoned garage more than 15 years ago, my magic apron is fully caked with paint, modeling paste, matte gel and god knows what else. Evidently - as soon as I put it on, my writing brain goes to sleep, but not before it injects my artmaking brain full of caffeine, or amphetamines. Whichever.
The point is, this blog post is about art.
Jan and I have been preparing for an exhibition of sorts which is taking place this summer and while I'm trying to maintain an air of mystery, I'm happy to share snippets of a painting I've recently completed.
I think I'll call it "Stubborn Love" - mostly because that's the last song that was playing on the radio as I stood back, looked at the piece and called it a day.