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breeden
ursulav

Two Quickies With Turtles

Neither of these are high art, but they keep me amused when I'm supposed to be painting mercenaries.

http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/10316537/
http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/10314691/

breeden
ursulav

Two Quickies With Turtles

Neither of these are high art, but they keep me amused when I’m supposed to be painting mercenaries.

http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/10316537/
http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/10314691/

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


breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

Tired today. I took a nap, so that's not it, but I feel sort of wrung out. Doodled a bit, but there's a lack of oomph behind it, and a definite lack of commitment. I feel as if I am a sponge soaked in art, and after squishing and squeezing and wringing, the last drops have finally fallen, and I am left a damp and twisty rag. Time to unsquish, resume normal shape, soak for a bit.

It's not all that surprising--the amount of--well, I hesitate to call things like "You're not fooling anybody, Bob," art, but the amount of schtuff of variable artistic merit that I create, it'd be weirder if I DIDN'T occasionally feel wrung out and need some recuperation time!--but it's annoying, particularly when it happens Right In Mid-Painting, so that I expend the last few drips of oomph getting halfway into something and then go dry. Sometimes I can come back to these, sometimes I can't. If there's a trick to being able to come back, I haven't figured it out yet. I have a small morgue of paintings that got dropped in this exact fashion, and I always tell myself I'll got back and finish them, and maybe one time in five, I really do it. Maybe the idea really has to hold me or something. I don't know.

The thing is, I'm not depressed or anything. As detrimental as it may be to my artistic ambiance, y'all might have noticed by now that I am inherently--god help me--cheerful. I think I'm just too weird to stay depressed for long. If I had a small personal raincloud, it would rain technicolor frogs and slugs with teeny umbrellas, and I would find a way to hire myself out to third-world countries suffering droughts. Being drained for me is just that--I'm tired, I don't want to paint for a little while--but it's not a deluge of woe, just a sort of "Yup, wore out t'old brain for a bit, time to veg."

Since nothing pro is due Right This Bloody Minute, so there's no reason to force it, and I'm going to see "Hero" tomorrow, which I hear has great visuals. And I have a coupla books to cruise through. I may just take the weekend off (MADNESS!) and veg for a bit. (I always say that. I never do it, either. Maybe this time...)

breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

Tired today. I took a nap, so that’s not it, but I feel sort of wrung out. Doodled a bit, but there’s a lack of oomph behind it, and a definite lack of commitment. I feel as if I am a sponge soaked in art, and after squishing and squeezing and wringing, the last drops have finally fallen, and I am left a damp and twisty rag. Time to unsquish, resume normal shape, soak for a bit.

It’s not all that surprising–the amount of–well, I hesitate to call things like “You’re not fooling anybody, Bob,” art, but the amount of schtuff of variable artistic merit that I create, it’d be weirder if I DIDN’T occasionally feel wrung out and need some recuperation time!–but it’s annoying, particularly when it happens Right In Mid-Painting, so that I expend the last few drips of oomph getting halfway into something and then go dry. Sometimes I can come back to these, sometimes I can’t. If there’s a trick to being able to come back, I haven’t figured it out yet. I have a small morgue of paintings that got dropped in this exact fashion, and I always tell myself I’ll got back and finish them, and maybe one time in five, I really do it. Maybe the idea really has to hold me or something. I don’t know.

The thing is, I’m not depressed or anything. As detrimental as it may be to my artistic ambiance, y’all might have noticed by now that I am inherently–god help me–cheerful. I think I’m just too weird to stay depressed for long. If I had a small personal raincloud, it would rain technicolor frogs and slugs with teeny umbrellas, and I would find a way to hire myself out to third-world countries suffering droughts. Being drained for me is just that–I’m tired, I don’t want to paint for a little while–but it’s not a deluge of woe, just a sort of “Yup, wore out t’old brain for a bit, time to veg.”

Since nothing pro is due Right This Bloody Minute, so there’s no reason to force it, and I’m going to see “Hero” tomorrow, which I hear has great visuals. And I have a coupla books to cruise through. I may just take the weekend off (MADNESS!) and veg for a bit. (I always say that. I never do it, either. Maybe this time…)

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