Inspiration Folders

Recently there was a post on the WetCanvas forums about artists keeping “inspiration folders.” These are files that one might put magazine clippings in, photos, notes, sketches, and whatnot to inspire future paintings or artworks. This got me thinking about all the different types of folders and things I have kept over the years, especially my digital files, which seem to be much easier to go through and organize.

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Broken Promises

Well, the experiment went very well I think. The only thing is that I have had second thoughts about posting it on my blog. I’m sorry. I hope you will all forgive me. I don’t mean to be a tease. But I feel I have good reasons why I’ve decided not to do it.


Art and a Writing Surprise

Today I finally put some painting time in. It’s been a while since I’ve done that. I’m still working on that cluttered collage on the gessoboard. Working on that fence has been taking forever, but then again, I haven’t been putting in the hours or days.

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Waiting for Residencies

I don’t know if I even mentioned the status of my Millay application. I didn’t get in, but I got on their waiting list. I have no idea where on their wait list I am sitting, but I’m on it. That’s something I suppose, but I can’t count on going there. That’s for sure.

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Writing and Stuff

Hello. It’s me again. I have no idea what I’m doing here, making another appearance, but I guess I’m taking a break from it all. I haven’t been painting the last couple of days, but I suppose I will resume on Tuesday. ┬áIt’s too late in the day now (Monday at 3:20 PM) and I like to paint when there’s still some good daylight out. I don’t really like the artificial light honestly. It casts too many shadows, and some of it is yellow – depending on where I’m working.

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All Over the Road

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I arrived to the New Years party, but every one was gone. All that was left was trash all of the floor, empty champagne glasses, fizzled out streamers and crushed noise makers. It was the 11th of January and I was truly late indeed. But a smile came across my face because I happen to loathe parties. All the was left was me. Lonesome me. The me I came in with, and that was just fine. But one thing was for certain. I wasn’t cleaning up this mess. So I left and went back home (just as I planned).