Yesterday a total horror as I understood profoundly that my work is embarrassing rubbish; my life has been wasted and nothing is salvageable. Had this sense before but never so completely.
Worked on the Ripley scroll copy which at least absorbed some energy (and went well in recompense) and by the afternoon decided to take the train to Carcassonne and see if a change of air would help decide what to do.
Sleep has been disrupted lately over the Circe painting and still is - been awake since 5.00am this morning - but this morning realised that it really doesn't matter. Ok, so its crap; so what? Who cares? There is nothing else I can do or could have done with my life. I might have gone off and done good somewhere but it didn't work like that. And I've met some wonderful people and had wonderful experiences that belong firmly in the art milieu.
(Its just occurred to me that this may be a backlash from the Chemin rejection but having thought about it fairly sure it isn't)
The Carcassonne trip didn't help any, just gloomy and lonely. Did manage to photocopy the posters for the show at Quillan - having trouble printing and copying ( machine failures) so this at least is one less thing to fret about. Did them in B and W and pleased - used an entertaining image. Hoping that its not this little expo that has tipped my balance.
This mornings resolution is one way of coping. There is nothing else I'd rather do. If I'm no good at it, well - can't be helped. I've done my best. Can try harder and will though today I have declared a holiday.
No comments:
Post a Comment