Hubris

Since I started drawing again, I've been deliberate in an attempt to not let myself care-- I use old paper, even old newsprint. I draw on both sides. I'm not allowing myself to get invested in this because I'm afraid of being hurt again at not being able to pursue it beyond the hobby level. I don't know how to break out of that mold, of the empty-nester trying to get her life back. I wish I could go back to my 25-year-old self and talk to the empty-nesters I knew then, the older women at ARC Gallery, and West Hubbard Group, and Artemisia (although there were fewer of them at Artemisia) and ask them to confirm these feelings-- whether I'm too old to do this again, and my distaste for playing the gallery game. That I just want to make art that I want to make, not trying to change the world, or invent a new paradigm, but just to draw.

Ann, this week, looking too thin. I told my husband she's the next best thing to a cadaver to draw. (Which is unfair- she has proper flesh on her bones, despite being too thin.) I studied back muscles in case she was the model and it seems to have paid off, with one of the best back studies I've done.


Couple of nice 5 minute ones, including one where I elected to not do the whole figure. The 10s alright, but I wasn't crazy about the poses; and a reasonably nice 25. I think it's time to do more on nice paper, after all, and put together a show.