Can I just say, "I know the horrible truth". I need to say it out loud! I'm afraid I don't want to paint anymore. I feel like I have painted everything I every wanted to paint. I have nothing else to paint. Finished. It's all done. I keep procrastinating. I keep finding excuses. I've finished up so many little chores like picking up threads off the floor, and stacking and re-stacking papers and dusting a little and washing stuff that didn't need washing and lining up pins and needles and putting things away and getting things out and EATING stuff I shouldn't be eating and making bread. MAKING BREAD. Stitching and sleeping in my chair and feeling haunted by the brushes. My brushes. I can't blog because there is nothing to blog. I haven't painted anything. I'm finished. Did I tell you that I have already painted everything? That is how I feel. Now, here is the horrible truth that scares me. I'm OK with it. I guess that's OK. Is it?
I have a stack of journals here. This morning I had a thought that maybe if I just picked one and painted something. Something that I didn't want to paint. But I've already painted everything. I'm finished. Maybe the Gut art journal right there on top would be a start. Because I have to get this horrible truth out of my gut. Don't I?
Infusion - a stitched booklet to celebrate a memory with a friend a friend named bloom and the great labyrinth story
1 week ago