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breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

Not as sore this morning as I'd expected--my calves are occasionally twinging sullenly, but that's about it. Tentative buyer lined up for the big Cardinal piece, which was a great morning pick-me up--gotta clear it with a friend who'd made prior interested noises and see if he still wants it, since he has first crack, but either way, it's all good, and the check for the Slug Totem arrived yesterday, so life is beautiful. Got a Digger done yesterday, so today can be devoted to dog-grooming wizards and pirate booty.

It's wet out. It poured last night, and the rain on deck, both drumming on the slats and more irregularly dripping and thunking from the eaves and the little plant stand all combined to make what sounded a great deal like eating noises. The whole effect was like trying to sleep with the cat chowing down on cat food right next to your head, only louder, with an element of cat-knocking-things-down thrown in, except omnidirectional and soggy. I had to cast it in terms of catness, or else it would have sounded like a monsterous Thing eating the deck outside the window, and that would've been rather disturbing to sleep on.

The wet is not deterring the pine siskins, who are all fluffed up in little streaky brown bundles and making gruff little chirps. The regular nuthatch is also in residence, (nuthatch heads look like badger stripes. A badger and a nuthatch would look good together) and the downy woodpecker and Carolina wren are picking at opposite sides of the suet. They both have white stripes running horizontal across the eye, so it's a neat effect, as if the stripe goes from one bird to the other.

It's an uneventful working morning, really. And those are neccessary, and make up the majority of our days on earth, so I'll say no more about it.

breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

Not as sore this morning as I’d expected–my calves are occasionally twinging sullenly, but that’s about it. Tentative buyer lined up for the big Cardinal piece, which was a great morning pick-me up–gotta clear it with a friend who’d made prior interested noises and see if he still wants it, since he has first crack, but either way, it’s all good, and the check for the Slug Totem arrived yesterday, so life is beautiful. Got a Digger done yesterday, so today can be devoted to dog-grooming wizards and pirate booty.

It’s wet out. It poured last night, and the rain on deck, both drumming on the slats and more irregularly dripping and thunking from the eaves and the little plant stand all combined to make what sounded a great deal like eating noises. The whole effect was like trying to sleep with the cat chowing down on cat food right next to your head, only louder, with an element of cat-knocking-things-down thrown in, except omnidirectional and soggy. I had to cast it in terms of catness, or else it would have sounded like a monsterous Thing eating the deck outside the window, and that would’ve been rather disturbing to sleep on.

The wet is not deterring the pine siskins, who are all fluffed up in little streaky brown bundles and making gruff little chirps. The regular nuthatch is also in residence, (nuthatch heads look like badger stripes. A badger and a nuthatch would look good together) and the downy woodpecker and Carolina wren are picking at opposite sides of the suet. They both have white stripes running horizontal across the eye, so it’s a neat effect, as if the stripe goes from one bird to the other.

It’s an uneventful working morning, really. And those are neccessary, and make up the majority of our days on earth, so I’ll say no more about it.

Originally published at Tea with the Squash God. You can comment here or there.


breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

Suddenly, and without much reason, feeling depressed. I don't often fall into oh-god-I'm-a-hack mode, but when it hits, it happens all at once, and usually fairly hard. It comes from comparing my art to the standard I'd like to be at, which is a lot higher and held by the top pros in the industry. That this standard is generally attained by people who have been in the industry over twice as long as I have (in some cases, rather longer than I've been alive) does not seem to mitigate it all that much.
Temporary Insecurity, AhoyCollapse )

breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

Suddenly, and without much reason, feeling depressed. I don’t often fall into oh-god-I’m-a-hack mode, but when it hits, it happens all at once, and usually fairly hard. It comes from comparing my art to the standard I’d like to be at, which is a lot higher and held by the top pros in the industry. That this standard is generally attained by people who have been in the industry over twice as long as I have (in some cases, rather longer than I’ve been alive) does not seem to mitigate it all that much.

My great fear, which generally is locked under a dozen deadbolts and shoved firmly in the back corner of the mental closet, is that I am going to spend an unrecognized career as a mediocre artist and then die, having left a legacy that interests nobody in particular. Every now and then this fear manages to throw the locks and go rampaging about until my natural ebullience grabs the thing and shoves it back in the box.

The solution would be to do a really good painting, but if I could reliably hammer one of those out on demand, the issue wouldn’t arise in the first place. And because I’m depressed and a little upset, I am about as capable of doing a good painting as I am of flight–the least frustration on a piece causes me to abandon it completely in despair, and since art is essentially one big sequential frustration, it doesn’t go well. I draw thumbnails, I curse. I try to think of the One Great Composition. I decide that my style (what the hell IS my style, anyway?) is just uninspired space filling, tedious to all who view it, and then I chew on the pillows for awhile, taking the name of the Muses in vain in stuffing-muffled irritation.

This time, however, I’m going to be smart. I know exactly what’s happening, I am an old hand at it, and so I’m going to take a nap and attempt to short circuit the damn thing completely. And maybe when I wake up, the aforementioned natural ebulliance will have beaten the shit out of this sense of runaway inadequacy, and I can return to normal function. And do a good painting. Or not paint at all, if that’s what needs to happen today.

Originally published at Tea with the Squash God. You can comment here or there.


breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

I'd like to thank everybody who so kindly commented--I feel better now. Ebulliance has not quite triumphed, but it's got the bastard cornered, so we're on the right track. The nap helped. (I had this very...Mary Sueish dream. Which is only sensible, since I AM actually the main character, but nevertheless, it was very strange and appeared to be very tortured plot about a bratty princess and a troop of dragon-riding mercenaries, and I woke up going "I don't need to worry about my art--my subconscious is the hack!")

But anyway, you guys all rock. I felt better for having read the encouragement (and yes, the notion of someone screaming "VEERRRNOONNN!" in the snow still makes me grin. 'Course, I'm the voice screaming "CHRISTIAAAANSEEENNNN!" from down the block, so who'm I to talk?) Anyway, I promise not to whine again for a good long time. Well, not about feeling insecure. I retain the right to whine about other things.

Like bunnies. I think my bunny whining quotient for the year is still wide open.

breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

I’d like to thank everybody who so kindly commented–I feel better now. Ebulliance has not quite triumphed, but it’s got the bastard cornered, so we’re on the right track. The nap helped. (I had this very…Mary Sueish dream. Which is only sensible, since I AM actually the main character, but nevertheless, it was very strange and appeared to be very tortured plot about a bratty princess and a troop of dragon-riding mercenaries, and I woke up going “I don’t need to worry about my art–my subconscious is the hack!”)

But anyway, you guys all rock. I felt better for having read the encouragement (and yes, the notion of someone screaming “VEERRRNOONNN!” in the snow still makes me grin. ‘Course, I’m the voice screaming “CHRISTIAAAANSEEENNNN!” from down the block, so who’m I to talk?) Anyway, I promise not to whine again for a good long time. Well, not about feeling insecure. I retain the right to whine about other things.

Like bunnies. I think my bunny whining quotient for the year is still wide open.

Originally published at Tea with the Squash God. You can comment here or there.