The last few weeks have been busy. Spending most of my days in my tiny studio, which is slowly getting too small. As the bags are born and new ideas hatch, I have less room and constantly have to move one unfinished project if I feel inspired to work on another. I had been feeling sorry for myself; crowded, I don’t have big work spaces like some of my artist friends, I have a recessed (can) light bulb out that needs to be changed, and blah blah blah.
Today I got over myself. I looked at my messy space and fell in love. Piles of oilcloth sit ready for being created into something, my new daytimer is still waiting to be transitioned into with all the piles of notes, addresses from christmas card envelopes, two address books, and business cards, storage is sparce, my portfolio lies in pieces and piles waiting to be brought together into one book.
The gift I gave myself is that I noticed these manifestations of what’s been in my brain now sprawled and spilled all over the four corners of this little place where I would rather be than anywhere else on Earth. And it is good…