Goodbye to my beloved studio.
Hello to working out of the house again.
There's something très depressing about the amount of back breaking work it takes to move two and a half year's worth of paintings, just to store them in obscurity.
Moving always makes me feel like this...
It makes me painfully aware of how attached I am to these canvases, while also realizing how fragile and meaningless these things really are. After all, a painting is nothing more than some paint on a piece of fabric, and a drawing sometimes is nothing more than a doodle. Someone says it's special, puts it on a pedestal, proclaims its genius and all of a sudden it becomes something else entirely. It's so bizarre when you stop to think about it.
So, yeah, I had my little cry moment. It'll take some getting used to, but I'm already starting to feel better about it. Who knows, this could be the greatest thing ever. Last night some new friends came to visit me. What a lovely sight to see outside my window four deer quietly walking in the snow. It made me think how nice it will be to look out into the woods and the mountain from now on.
So I guess change will be good after all. Who knows what great artwork is about to get made.
|Deer, the woods, the mountain... I'd say a much better view than that way-too-blue house and ugly duplex!|
|the last paintings I was working on. soon to be worked on some more|
|yup, the last things to get packed. the essentials: music, toilet paper and my flask of vodka|
|that sign didn't really work but I'm leaving it for the next tenant anyway|