Monday, March 15, 2010

All Falling Down



And so it was said of London's bridges--probably during the blitzkrieg, but here it's just notes of black falling from left down to right.

This is actually a sketch of my striped sweater crumpled next to me on the couch. I like stripes, particularly when they're crumpled and are prominent on the top surfaces and fade away into shadows just to come out again going in a different direction. I like the rhythmic pattern of the black strokes. The fact that they're falling down to rest is probably me balancing out the rhythm of my day?

Yesterday was hectic--laundry, painting, cleaning up the sink in my studio (very big deal, a very big deal, lots of GreenWorks and SOS), and running across town to pick up the new kitchen faucet (a lot like the old) for the plumber who's coming this afternoon to install it while I'm meeting with my art group, (Honey will cover).

It's no secret that art is therapeutic. Cleaning is too. I should have taken a before picture of my beloved sink with the washboard front panel and shallow insert compartment that still needs work, but mom wouldn't have approved of airing paint encrusted sinks in public. She would, however, give a nod to repairing nail damage. My manicurist awaits. I can see her in the mirror.

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