Still feeling stuck, without inspiration, not taking the usual pleasure from my studio time. But I feel OK about this picture anyhow. And I did spend the time, and do the practice.

I spilled a bottle of ink trying to open it, so this was kind of an exercise in working with whatever happens. And saucy hip-bumps.

I’ve been feeling uncomfortable lately with trusting my intuitive art sense. I don’t feel called to make a particular kind of mark or image when I start, and I don’t know where I’m going once I do get started. My inner critics remind me that I really don’t have anything important to say in my artwork, and I’m just wasting resources and time indulging myself. When I could be doing something useful.

Sigh.

The practice is to say, I know, I hear and recognize these thoughts, but I am going to carry on regardless. Maybe I know more than you (inner critics) think I know, and I won’t figure that out unless I just keep doing the thing. And anyway, here are some colors, and some lines, and some nice blobs of paint.

recovery day after my covid booster, I just want to curl up in a warm soft place until my immune system finishes being all stressed out

me and the old man go out walking with our familiars

summer’s leftovers