Henri Matisse, "Studio under the Eaves"
Big wet snow and that tinking, crinkling noise from the tin rain gutters outside my studio window. It's been feeling like winter all weekend. Of course last week was all soft gusts of wind and wan sun, and downtown was filthy with Queens students in knee-length shorts, rifling through milk crates full of used LP's or tilting around in glitter and giggles and heels the length of lightning. Too much money and the brain power of fluorescent bulbs, and so much disappointment to follow, not least with the weather.
Speaking of disappointment: no free wireless at the studio this Sunday. Either it's disappeared or someone's smartened up and added a password. But sometimes these things are a blessing, because I didn't spend x amount of time mining my email for all the things I need to do, and people I need to get back to (people: an ongoing pain in the ass), and making my usual lists and mind maps and Venn diagrams and reminders to self why I should hold off on faking my own death (still a chance for that lottery win, after all ... besides, who would look after Chicken Licken?). Instead I just got my stuff together and started painting. A little radio, the right light, a snack around mid-morning -- what more can one ask for?
It's a bit like the wealthy barber idea, in that you pay yourself first. In my case, that means I always make time for painting or writing, and never let it get pushed aside by all the million other things. Because the million other things is just a racket in a cloud, and hanging around is what it does.
p.s. To the drunk who abandoned the second half of his greasy chips take-away in the street-level doorway of my studio ... you were drunk, so you were hungry, but when you dropped the styrofoam container to the sidewalk, exploding it everywhere, was it because you were no longer drunk or no longer hungry? Oh, just forget it; I can't stay mad at you -- you crazy, magical litterbug.
Big wet snow and that tinking, crinkling noise from the tin rain gutters outside my studio window. It's been feeling like winter all weekend. Of course last week was all soft gusts of wind and wan sun, and downtown was filthy with Queens students in knee-length shorts, rifling through milk crates full of used LP's or tilting around in glitter and giggles and heels the length of lightning. Too much money and the brain power of fluorescent bulbs, and so much disappointment to follow, not least with the weather.
Speaking of disappointment: no free wireless at the studio this Sunday. Either it's disappeared or someone's smartened up and added a password. But sometimes these things are a blessing, because I didn't spend x amount of time mining my email for all the things I need to do, and people I need to get back to (people: an ongoing pain in the ass), and making my usual lists and mind maps and Venn diagrams and reminders to self why I should hold off on faking my own death (still a chance for that lottery win, after all ... besides, who would look after Chicken Licken?). Instead I just got my stuff together and started painting. A little radio, the right light, a snack around mid-morning -- what more can one ask for?
It's a bit like the wealthy barber idea, in that you pay yourself first. In my case, that means I always make time for painting or writing, and never let it get pushed aside by all the million other things. Because the million other things is just a racket in a cloud, and hanging around is what it does.
p.s. To the drunk who abandoned the second half of his greasy chips take-away in the street-level doorway of my studio ... you were drunk, so you were hungry, but when you dropped the styrofoam container to the sidewalk, exploding it everywhere, was it because you were no longer drunk or no longer hungry? Oh, just forget it; I can't stay mad at you -- you crazy, magical litterbug.
you are so right! it's just 'a racket hanging around' :)
ReplyDelete;)))
ReplyDeleteLOVE this post. my you are talented.
ReplyDeleteI thought the point of a studio was to get away from the internet. Hope the wireless stays password protected.
ReplyDelete