The studio today is an amazing series of contrasts compared to the great outdoors. There are stacks of paintings in progress lined up near and on the window sill,
and a pile of tests and 'what if's' to follow on the easel.
There's a book cover painting that I thought was done and had tucked in an obscure place to do the 'catch me unawares' trick, and I see it's nowhere near finished.
A pile of leftover cut snowflakes are scattered across a stencil binder, next to another near-finished painting.
Some zentangles await spray gluing and photocopying for another 'what if' possibility,
and some journal pages cozy up to another 'Victoria womanhood' start from the recent workshop.
On one of the play tables sits a styrofoam head - thanks
Andrea Revoy! - waiting for inspiration, time and colour,
next to a pile of papers and a roll of sari silk Andrea also donated to the mixed media cause.
Yet this morning at 6:30, the snow storm was blowing gusts against the windows,
and the view outdoors is a study in black and white, most unusual for this valley.
Is it any wonder that I'm addicted to my studio? I HAVE to go where the colour sings, don't you?
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