Primary colors in late January are fine and nourishing things. On days when snow falls thick and fast, the north wind blows through telephone lines and I can't see past my front door, they make me feel like dancing, kicking up my heels and throwing paint all over the frayed and tattered canvas of my life.
This is one of those days, and I am about to run away without ever setting foot out of the house and plunging into the deep snow beyond. To be honest, I couldn't paint my way out of a recyclable bin bag, a gunny sack or a tardis, but that is quite all right. The tatty brushes in their old clay mug outshine any vibrant summer bouquet I can think up this morning, and the colors in their dear little pots, tubs and tubes are hollering for attention. Throw in a sheaf of watercolor pens in vibrant shades, and life is good.
On a palette, the reds, blues and yellows sizzle, and even the exuberantly spattered tarp on the floor is arty stuff, probably more so than what I will be smearing on paper, canvas and all over myself this morning. What a splendid, sticky, "hallelujah" sort of mess I am about to make - just the right thing for a late winter day with heaps of snow in the forecast. When the white stuff starts falling, I may not even notice.
3 comments:
You're staying in, but doing something! Better than I did yesterday. Poked my nose out the door only long enough to let my friend's dog in and out. Otherwise in my pyjamas till noon and watching TV series and movies till bedtime. LAY-ZEE. Back to work today, only 5 minutes away, and not a lot to do there either. I can be lazy or not, as I please. It always feels slightly like wasted time when I'm lazy, and yet ... the time continues to fly, as if I'd been having fun. -Kate
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Yes, Cate! Run, dance, let those colors free to do their magic. Joy is waiting for the door to open.
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