I'm back, and I was about to say I can't believe it's been a month, but in fact it seems like a lot longer.
I've been visiting family & other stuff and generally not spending any time in my studio. I have sketched a little, and I did two drawings tonight, both of which are awful, but I've broken back into it I hope and will continue to draw and paint again.
Why do I find it so hard sometimes? Why, when I've had a break from art, does it scare me stiff to start again. And yet, when I do, even if the outcome is less than good, it feels good to be looking again.
I have been creative in other ways these last four weeks - I've made friendship bracelets for loved ones, I helped my sister create a new fireplace which we're both very pleased with, and I've been singing too. But making art, for me, is making pictures.
I'm glad I have this blog to return to, to bully me along, and to use as a reference. Looking back through old entries I am surprised and amazed by what I've done in 2007 so far. It also scares me, looking at it all, as if it was made by accident, that it wasn't me actually, and I'll never be able to do anything like that again. Do other artist get that feeling. I'm not after compliments, I just wonder why I have this doubt. I want the excitement and drive back again.
If anyone had asked me in January 2007 where I thought I'd be by now, it wouldn't be here, I'm sure. It'd be way back down the road somewhere.
Anyway, back on the road after some time out. At the moment it feels like it was wasted time. I don't mean that I've not enjoyed being with my family, but I wonder why I wasn't making art while I was there with them?
I've included the image of Yellow House by Van Gogh. I'm not sure why but I like it. Goodnight for now.