Starving Artist Ink.

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. taking claire’s passport photo… her wild, mad hair… i’m sure they won’t mind at all that i edited out the ugly scratch she gave herself. i can’t help it… her first passport, oh my! lucky girl… we’ve plans to travel home to the US this summer, and this autumn- travelling to belgium to throw a proper american thanksgiving with friends.

. embassy appointment made. makes my belly all wobbly and uneasy. dealing with immigration, government, blah blah whatever is never fun. strict deadlines, confusing language, providing a million documents to prove something so basic. BUT! once it’s over, i can then get our ticket home.

. a muse has manifested herself for a wee bit, and has been so so lovely to play with. refreshing to feel those butterflies again. amazing, and trying not to let myself become overwhelmed by it. i really am such an emotional-feely-baby when it comes to creating.

. fascinated by how the internet has transformed my life. allowing me to connect and find my tribe of women across the globe. for us to all share wisdom and stories with each other… for the moon to rise in my window, and hours later- rise in theirs. and yet, we’re connected. as if we sit together.

. time escapes me in the middle of the night, hot blankets, wiggly baby clinging to breast, soundtrack of zzz’s from the snoring man. and my eyes wide open, staring into the dark room… wondering how it could be that the minutes seem to drag by. wondering when sleep will envelop me again. slowly maneuvering my body around hers, so as not to disturb her… seeking a comfortable position to welcome sleep.. and, she stirs. searching for the comfort of milk. arms outreached, rolling, scooting, searching for me with her all.

. girl crushes and adoration. oh my..

…beckoning the muse.

‘i work by muse only’ how pretentious does that sound? but.. that’s the only way i can word it to people contacting me about commission work. how DO other artists just… push through and do it?

i’ve asked a few- some say they just do it. some say that it was a learned skill, discipline, deadlines, being a professional. but- i ask- what about your heart?

how do you infuse your heart and soul into work that you aren’t fully present for? how do you sell a piece to someone when you haven’t fully immersed yourself into it, when the muse wasn’t there. i don’t really understand how you are able to accept money for that piece, when it means nothing to you.  i know i certainly can’t. (but. perhaps that  is simply the nature of the BUSINESS of it.)

but really, how does your pencil or paintbrush flow without having her glide it across the paper?

have you simply found a way to bottle inspiration and pull it off the shelf as needed?

that’s just the thing, i can’t simply beckon the lovely muse… i can’t simply push through and force it either- because nothing flows.. nothing works.. and the piece being forced is noticeably…not.. right. in the end.
that’s not something i want to get to, not a place i want to find myself selling.. but- is it moreso of a challenge? a way to learn how to push past dry spells lacking creativity and a skill learned on how to constantly be in the creating zone?

who wants to buy an original piece, custom made from an artist- when the artist isn’t feeling it?

i have that overwhelming feeling of anxiety and guilt- in that i can’t say ‘no’ to anyone. the pressure builds, commission projects get pushed aside. anxiety and creativity don’t party well together.

trying to find that balance of charging for my work. of finding a sweet spot to be able to create- regardless of presence of muse. or.. do i just ‘create by muse only’ and that’s that. do people appreciate and understand that?

thoughts?

. i want to start lighting more candles. which means actually buying candles to begin with. but. i think it’d be a lovely thing to start. candles add such a delicious atmosphere.

. my internal hoarding battles. leaving empty sauce jars in the sink to soak the label off… and then later allowing steven to throw them away. even though i wanted that. no. no. i don’t need it. ohbutiwantit.whatifineedit?aaaaaaaaaaah!

. i need to scrub the bathroom. it smells… damp. i feel like i keep waiting for it to be warm, to be able to open the windows- before i start cleaning like that…

. my hips hurt. it’d probably be a good idea to inflate my yoga ball and sit on that more often. but it still has dried blood left over from her birth- and part of me can’t bear the thought of wiping that away…

. i’m going to buy myself new knickers. i have to talk myself into it so i don’t feel guilty. reading the comments about my granny panties was hilarious. also. poor steven.

. waiting for the fucking embassy to re-open for foreign births abroad, so i can get her passport. so i can get a ticket. so that we can travel far across the ocean, mountains and land… over the river and through the woods.

. pinterest is a delicious waste of time… and a delicious place to save ideas and harvest new ones.

. pre-motherhood: i could easily look at jeans online and decide what ones were cute and would look fabulous on me. now: since. you know. things have shifted. i scan the details to see what ‘rise’ the jeans are. low or super low rise… er.. yeah. not a good idea.

. speaking of shifting.. i believe that i now weigh less than i did before i got pregnant. but i have no proof. like. no digits to tell me. but- i feel it. see it. and my big ugly knickers are falling off… but like i said- weight has shifted. basically meaning everything slid down to hips that i never had before. wow.

. ta-daaa! i just ordered some sweet, pretty, lacy ones. ooh-la la! happy valentine’s to me.

. getting things checked off the list of ‘to-do’… as i cross one off, it seems as if two more appear. one at a time…

. if i wake up in the morning when claire first wakes- i get a lot of shit done. but… i’d rather sleep with her some more. so instead i get next to nothing done. ooooh well.

. correct me if i’m wrong, but aren’t clothes piled up on the stairs and international sign for ‘if you are going this way without your hands full- pick up a pile of shit and bring it upstairs with you’ ? pretty sure it was. but for some reason, i am the only person in this house that realizes that…. damn it.

. i ate the last of steven’s chocolate bar. so there.