Painting, boy is it a joy to me. I sit down, and let things flow through me... how I feel, what I see, using colors that inspire me, staying away from those that give me rage that day. It is an experience that is priceless to me. I lose all track of time.
I want a studio where I can paint, finish my book, and learn to whittle. Or, hell, even a second bedroom. However, I have made a new rule. I do not paint for anyone, I paint for me. If you like a painting and I don't want to hang on to it, it's all yours.
I painted something for a friend. I spent hours reeling over what to paint and just how to get it right. It turned out beautifully, knowing it would make my friend smile. I like bringing joy to others. When I went to arrange a time to surprise her with it, because I know she is having a bad time lately, she said "I don't have time for that right now. I am too irritated." My initial reaction, FUCK YOU, you ungrateful bitch.
I didn't tell her I had to meet her today, I told her sometime. All of the sudden a brilliant painting became an object of heart ache to me. Why in the hell did I care to do it in the first place? Who is too irritated to accept a gift handmade by your "best friend"... which leads me to an entirely different discussion in my head if she is even my friend. Alas, I won't paint for anyone again. I paint for me because it is my peace.
Jebus, Liz, that's so sucky.
ReplyDeleteWhat I wouldn't give for a hand-painted gift made just for me!! :)
Alas, paint for you. YOU are the one who benefits from it.