... and I'm already behind.
At the mo', most of my effort is going toward The Sketchbook Project - Status: Incomplete - Due: Postmarked Jan. 15th. I still have pages to glue, paper to insert, collage to complete, and mini portraits to include, not to mention that I wanted to scan it all in before I send it off. Yes, they are going to scan it on their end, but I want the option to be able to post my own PDFs or use my work later.
I also want to work on a mail art piece for Exploding Doughnut. I have a few ideas, but nothing down on paper yet.
And those are only No.1 and No.2 on a long, long list.
Unfortunately, all I want to do after work is go home, change into my sock monkey jimjams, and curl up with a book. I think it has something to do with coming to work in the dark and leaving work in the dark. The only sunshine I've seen the past four days has been through my narrow office window. I'm beginning to feel like a prisoner in the tower of London - only without all the fun of the torture and the rats and the watery gruel.
For about two weeks I've felt like a creative black hole - sparkling, light-filled, stars of ideas go in never to be seen again. Hopefully Carla Sonheim's class, Silly3, will help bust me out of my funk. The lessons might be the kick in the pants I need to get some momentum built up.
My office and desk at home is a wreck - probably a good reflection of my creative mind. It's piled to overflowing with crap. I've moved in to the new place (sorta), but have no storage space for anything yet. My creative space, the office/studio that I've always longed for, has become a receptacle for every displaced item I own. I don't have any more space to create than I did before.
This weekend I am mounting a major expedition to excavate some surface area on the desk. Or maybe I'll "HULK MAD!!" and pick it up by one leg and throw it across the room, effectively clearing it off in a shower of paper, pens, paints, brushes, books, and rage. That option has a strange appeal.
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