My Face Is To The Rising Sun

My personal sketchbooks are a bit of a mess-- a mix of bad drawings, good drawings, quotes, collage, and inspirational images pasted in.  I use Handbook journals because the paper can handle some abuse, and they look nice lined up on a shelf.  One of these days I want to try making my own sketchbook from loose sheets of 300lb watercolor paper.  I had a friend in college who made a beautiful travel journal in her bookbinding class and wrapped the cover in a map of the place she was visiting.

My Face Is To The Rising Sun is a small, independently published poetry collection I impulsively bought from a junk shop in Marblehead.  It spoke to me at the time, but the fact is, I have no taste for 1800s poetry with it's rigid, uptight form and strict meter.  It's like cramming words into a cage and expecting them to sing.  Strangely, I wanted to keep the book even though I didn't want to keep it.  I liked the title.  I gently removed the title page and put the rest of the book aside for donation with all of the poetry intact.  I doubt the next person who buys it from a thrift store would notice the absent title page.

Sotoportego (WIP)

A year later, I am still working on this painting, pulling it out when it suits me without any consistent commitment.  It stares at me balefully while I shift it from the back of my coat closet to the space behind my futon to any number of places it's less likely to get in the way, begging to be finished.  I have decided that I'm going to finish it once and for all, hopefully within the next month or so.  I have also decided that I want to get more serious about my painting, moving forward.  

I have been so apprehensive about this painting.  I have never done anything this large before (24"x30") and I'm nervous about messing it up.  Big brushes feel clumsy in my hands, used to small scale work from years and years of practicing illustration.  A couple months ago, I got to a point in the painting where I froze and I wouldn't move forward for fear of making a mess.  I procrastinated  by taking up mixed media collage, learning how to cook, and getting an instagram (@viaoscura) where I post pictures of everything except the painting I'm not finishing.  

It hit me when I woke up this morning.  I sat up and looked at the Leonid Afremov painting hanging across from my bed, and I knew what to do next-- forget the brush and use a palette knife.  If you're painting with a tool that is imprecise by nature, it forces you to loosen up.  Besides, I like the look of palette knife paintings, otherwise I probably wouldn't have put an Afremov street scene in my bedroom.  

(this is the Afremov painting)

I have been reading about minimalism and "decluttering" recently.  Most of the worthwhile books about it specifically call out unfinished projects, explaining that they are a subconscious energy drain in addition to taking up valuable space you could use for something else.  And it's true.  Having a huge pile of half done projects and unread books demanding attention stresses me out so much!  This weekend, I made a list of the unfinished business I'm likely to get to within the next 6 months to a year and ditched the rest.

Projects I Will Actually Finish List!
-This painting
-Crochet projects incl. a hat, scarf, throw pillow, and some gift items I won't list in case an intended recipient is reading
-Processing my photos from Plum Island
-Life size clay head (I'll explain later)
-6 fiction books to read
-3 poetry books to read

It should be a lot easier to focus on visual art without a huge to-do hanging over my head.

Oh, and did I mention that I started doing yoga?  Maybe I'd be better at finishing projects, or even updating this blog, if there weren't so many other interesting things to try.  Only so much time in a day, right?