I love looking at a blank canvas. I paint to express my feelings. I ususlly don’t even know how I feel until I start painting. If I don’t like what it looks like, I just paint over it. I often take it back to all white.
It’s feels good to put paint on a brush and take it off. I don’t paint with colors that I like. What I like doesn’t matter. I paint by feel. It is just an expression. If I love someone or if I hate them I can usually paint them. I could never paint my neighbor.
Before I write, I have to paint. Before I paint, I have to go on lovely walks. Not walks with itunes in my ear pushing me forward to keep cadance and break a sweat. I need to look at houses and and trees. See if the hose is put back or left out. I need to see people starting their day. I need to think of that time I was on an air plane a universe away from the 405.
I wish the blank page was like a brand new canvas to me. I’ve been thinking of a series of short stories. They have a common thread. They want off the back burner. These stories are a way for me to communicate with people. You know certain people whom I need to speak with.
In a way it’s feels dangerous to feel like I must be heard. That’s not me really, it’s the little creatures in my story, a character that must be heard. Ok, so I’ll give a listen and try to keep up. Then maybe I’ll get rid of some of this static buzzing my head all the time. Mean while I’ll be posting the progress of my painting.
I’ll try to merge the wonderful feeling of paiting with the transcribing of words onto a blank page.