scrapbooking

I’ve yet to return to my easel in earnest. I’ve sat and stared at it for much too long, but haven’t picked up a brush. Today, this week, painting doesn’t feel as high stakes as it did a week ago, and still I haven’t come back to it. In all honesty a big normal part of it is simply I do not know what to paint. The other part of it is, the place where the paintings used to come from looks a lot like a dried up lake, muddy and empty. So maybe I’ll paint that. Paint about how it feels wrong like a shirt that’s a little out of date and doesn’t quite fit the way it used to. 


But I’ve been making myself a scrapbook, with photos taken from my summer and adventures. It feels like a calm life to do this. I don’t have to think too hard and it requires nothing from me but my own opinion on what looks good. It’s peaceful. In a way art hasn’t ever really felt. I’m an intense person, and as such my art has become so emotionally intensive. Has to be profound and fabulous and be well done. When really all I want is to make things about how I see the world. It’s really that simple. I just want to make beautiful things and things that make me happy and bring joy. 


So I’m making myself a scrapbook. And some pages are better than others but that’s the beauty in it. Its is all for me and me alone, I’ll show it to who I like and keep it all for myself. It’s important I think, to have things that are for me alone, and to make things simply because I want to and it brings me joy. I’ve been knitting before bed and that brings me peace. I’ve been making a scrapbook and that brings me joy. 


So I would like very much to pick that brush up again but I’ll wait till I can do it with peace and joy. I’ll go on with my papers, and photos, and stickers, and yarn till the world ends if that’s what it takes. But I don’t think it will be for all that long, I’ve become a painter of words after all. 

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