Wednesday January 26, 2005
I made up for yesterday’s chilly outing by staying home, venturing out only once for a head-down stroll along the lane and back, just for form’s sake. Some days I have the impression the local weather gods are having the kind of fun in which us poor humans tend to find ourselves shunted to the sidelines like unwelcome guests at a party. Unwelcome in an don’t-care sort of way. The sort of way an extremely large rock might feel about a gnat.
So the rest of the time I played with stuff, with my PDA, with a new poem, and with several sheets of inoffensive watercolour paper.
I’m at a genuinely lovely point in Project Watercolour. It still doesn’t matter what the results are like, and I still don’t have to ‘finish’ anything. Just splash the washes on to the paper without regard for hard edges and run-outs, and have fun. Particularly, have fun. I seem always to learn more, learn different, learn deeper when I have a smile on my face.
I’m getting there but, bad weather or not, as soon as my monthly pension cheque hits the bank I’m going to go shopping for new brushes. I shall get myself two new round sables, one large and one ridiculously large, and a quarter or half-inch flat, made of a springy synthetic/sable mix. Oh, and a modest stack of 6×4 watercolour pads.
There are two popular sayings that provide an itchy boundary to my predicament:
And that, to my way of thinking, proves more than adequately my theory that an aphorism isn’t worth the nutcase that holds it.