On Friday evenings I rejoice and the prospect of finally letting my creativity out of the cage. I did a small painting in the evening and on Saturday I did some sketchbook work. By Saturday night I was frightened and guilty by my own ability to shut myself off so completely from the world and the people in it, (and my back hurt!) so on Sunday I just did family and house stuff. From talking to other artists the mothers guilt is real. The work is so absorbing and it takes you so far away from everything that you fear your own potential for negligence. It also has a good side, when I'm working the world and it's problems can go to hell. I feel like I could be one of those musicians who keep playing while the Titanic sinks.
I was a bit conflicted about how small I should go with my brush for the detail on these. I hate to loose the painterly impression and get too neat, so I wanted to use the big brush as much as possible even though they are tiny.
Friday night sillyness, Tiny Tim, Tiptoe through the Tulips. Painting and listening to music has taken over as my weekend party scene.