Now what I need is some motivation to do more art-at-home. My lovely studio was once again reduced to "storage at large" in order to clean up the front half of the basement so the kids had a place to do kid things...which seems to mainly consist of getting in each other's way and then having a shoving match. I really only intervene if it seems that doom is inevitable. But that is a whole other blog. This one is for ART, and for me to use curse words when I really feel the need. (You have those days, right?)
My mom has set herself the goal of one hour of art a day. I may try to follow in her lead (she's steered me well so far), but it'll have to start tomorrow. Tonight I have an hour of cleaning...or "finding new homes for crap". Crap being a term my father often employed--the translation: stuff that's not mine.
So I'm off to de-clutter. The next time we speak (or I ramble at length & you read it) I will try to have uplifting news! Or at least more pictures.
Cheerio, dearies.
The Ravens are gorgeous. :) One day, you can ink me. It'll happen, and I'll wait for it with content excitement.
ReplyDeleteYou see, I sing while I'm getting tattooed - it's the only way I can breathe and stay calm. I've only ever been tattooed at home and I don't know the pressures of being in a shop.
When Marshall's needle first hit my shin-bone area, I was just screeching out Crosby Stills and Nash..."...thrill me to the MARROW!" She had to stop the gun and we all lost our minds laughing for a while.
Much love chickadee, spring is coming soon!