Monday, so drawing.... woke desperate and not knowing anything. Decided to use really beautiful paper so if I couldn't respect my abilities I could at least respect the paper - hand made, heavy, glorious - even for the quickies I used a heavy Arches. Wanted Chinese ink and couldn't find any - have I finally used it all? - didn't want to have to grind any in the course of the session. Settled for a pot labeled 'walnut and gin 2010'. My own, obviously. It was OK, capable of delicate nuance but loaded with greasy flecks. Given the poverty of my work, scarcely relevant.Waste of Fabienne who is a very good model.
So, so - the only way to get through the two hours was to remind myself that the afternoon was mine and I could use the time to work on this beautiful paper and try and make these images work. That got me through the two hours, anyway.
By the afternoon, needed to sleep (bad night) By the time I got to the studio was even more hesitant and nervous than when I'd done the wretched things.
One looked good. Then I over-reached myself.
Tomorrow might find a route.
At least the paper can take punishment, it is so willing to be abused.
All this, I think, is because yesterday for the first time I did the course of the Artistes a Suivre. Normally I'm in it or I'm away, whatever, so Ive never actually gone out and visited the expos. Yesterday M offered to drive and we did at least half and maybe three-quarters of the course. Now its hard for me to know what is significant... I so enjoyed the company of M for 8 hours plus, having forgotten the profound pleasure of friendship and shared interests, and was beside myself with happiness. So I can't tell what was good art, what bad (though actually, yes I can -) or what mattered about the day.
But woke thinking how sad it all was. So many decent artists, so many man hours, so much endeavor and care and hope. Yet again forced to confront my own worth and yet again forced to find I've fallen short. And no point in any of it.
One artist whose work I liked in the catalogue seemed to be mirroring my endeavors so I could measure his successes and failures and in his large body of work found two successes, not very successful at that. And they were more successful than any of mine.
Spoke to Ursula at Carmen's launch on Thursday. She has given up art and taken to Tai Chi. Shes older than me and after a lifetimes struggle has quit... says its better, says shes less nervous, says it is good not having to think about painting all the time.
In the despair this morning I decided to stop (not for the first time but the first time for a few years) Immediately my mind hissed, so what will you do? Other women manage houses and meals effectively. Other women write, criticism, stories, reportage. Poetry. Come to think of it, I do all this too though not very well, indeed not at all well.
Hey ho. I'm taking myself too seriously. Lets just press on; for if it doesn't matter, why not?
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