“MMM it’s good.” I say. “What’s good?” says Alan. (He stayed home from work today because of the rain.) “My Green tea”. I say, it’s really good. I put the honey I usually put in my coffee on my toast with Banana and almond butter. Jack and Fiona are still sleeping, it’s 7:19 AM, this scares me. Whenever they sleep unusually late they have been sick. I can hear little noises on the monitor, Alan has decided to go down to get them. This is very nice of him. I’m missing Jack and Fiona right now though, I’m missing going in and saying, “Good morning” Giving them big hugs and cuddles. I don’t miss changing their diaper. Alan just brought up Fiona, I grabbed her gave her a hug, put her in the high chair, but all she really wanted was her bottle. I have everything ready. When Alan got home from work last night he wanted to cuddle the babies but they kept coming to me. They wanted to go to bed. Ah Jack, he gave me the sweetest smile and cuddle. I wonder if it’s OK to have a second cup of green tea. “Wait let me finish this really fast.” I say to Alan. (Several Times) A lot of talking, questions, conversations are happening right now that are breaking my concentration. I had some time in the studio yesterday. I have an idea, prep the paper, lay down some paint. I like what first comes out, I’m doing self-portraits, need to let them dry. Multi task, work on the laundry and clean my closet. I go back to my studio. I HATE them, I start working, nothing’s happening. I start to panic. I want to smoke some pot. But I don’t because I’m cutting back in preparation for my cleanse next week. I leave again, work on more chores. Come back, mix some new paint, new colors, the creativity is finally starting to flow. I’m excited. I am liking how these are turning out. I lean towards dark colors when I’m PMS’ing and self –loathing. I usually cover everything up with black paint and throw it in the trash. This is a definite improvement. That is the other thing the Zoloft did, it removed my self-loathing component. How does it do that? I did it by myself yesterday though which is great news for me. I am changing. Naturally.
Category: Art finding balance
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I am developing a relationship with line. I’ve been working on this for a long time. I used to be free with my use of line, I was fearless. Somewhere along the way I started hating my lines. I didn’t want any to show in the final piece. I would cover everything up. Most of the time leaving a muddy mess. I’ve been working on restraint. I make a mark and leave it. I work on several at a time, going back and forth between them responding to the marks I’ve made. Yesterday I had two sessions in my studio. I was about to clean the kitchen while the babies took their nap. But I got the urge to go throw some paint around. I started with ink, drawing with my bamboo pen. Ink on my fingers. Adding watercolor, collage, and acrylic. I stand back to look. The work I’m doing excites me. Maybe I’ve gone too far already though. No time to sit and mull, I hear Jack and Fiona on the monitor, nap time is over. We eat our Burmese chicken soup with noodles and egg for lunch. It’s enough for all three of us. I clean the kitchen, scrubbing every inch of counter, trying to get rid of clutter. We take Billy for a stroller walk, it’s still humid. I’m sweating. Ramona is here now. I hand over Jack and Fiona. I’ve got more chores to do. I tackle my closet, it’s been weighing on me for a while now. I work for two hours cleaning, purging, and going to the bank. I have a little time left to work in my studio. I go in, it’s quiet. I put away the pieces from earlier. I prepare my paper. I decide to start with watercolor. Black, I use a small brush. I sweep the brush across the paper making imagery that comes from deep inside. I like what is happening. “USE RESTRAINT.” I say. “Trust yourself.” I say. I add collage, acrylic, and ink. “Why isn’t my mom here?” I ask. She would understand what I’m doing. We could talk about it, talk about painting, use of line and mixed media. We could talk about abstract art and go see shows. I can only speak to her this way. I can imagine what she’d say, what she’d like. It’s impossible to work in my studio without these thoughts. I’ve drank my whole French press of coffee again today. I think I might bring the babies into the studio to paint today. I’m really tired though, I woke up at 3 am with violent allergies. I didn’t get much sleep last night. I feel like the purging helped my work yesterday.
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Shaven legs, been using lotion. Drinking lots of water. Eating well, tummy feeling full, gorged on cake and watermelon. Drinking tequila, can’t get drunk. Only drank one, nursing second one now. Felt free, listening to Sweet Home Alabama, put on a sexy dress, sweeping floor, dancing, saying, “Hi jack! Hi Fiona.” Smile, giggle me, them. This is my dream, to be carefree and fun loving. Always have been, except when I’m down. Take last sip of Tequila. Make a second? Feeling good now, babies asleep, Alan asleep on the couch. I hear a little bird chirping, the hum of the freeway, a saw, someone doing DYI. Kids at the park saying sentences, I can’t make out what they are saying. A car door here a dog barking there. My stomach hurts a little. I’m too conscientious to get drunk or eat anything else. When the babies wake up I will get a closer look at the neighborhood. Billy needs a walk, I’ll wear a hat and sunglasses. I’ll make another margarita. Drink more water. 1/2 a shot of tequila, 1/2 a shot of lime juice and ice in a little tiny goblet. Yum, the new margarita is good. The trash is full. The flowers in the interesting crystal vase with a geometric design of cuts, making triangle ridges that we got as a wedding present that I didn’t like at first but now has grown on me are dead. The water is murky. If I smelt it I know what it would smell like, pond water. There are a few flowers that have survived. Yellow with long tiny petals and two white and purple lilies. The painting of my mom’s dad, he wore a check suit and was a used car salesman, not in the painting. It’s just a portrait, but in the old black and white photographs I’ve studied, he wore check suits. The painting is in a dark corner of the room. The dominant sounds are the birds and freeway, things Fiona couldn’t hear without her hearing aids. Now I am feeling tired. I don’t know about a walk, I’m leaning towards a bath. Or paint! I could totally go paint right now. I’ll bring the baby monitor and my margarita. I’ll just paint super-fast. Just for fun. Then If I have time before any one wakes up I’ll take a hot bath. If they wake up before I’m done painting I’ll take the babies and Billy for a buzzed Sunday afternoon walk on time change day. Good Bye.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 