Last night I had a horrible dream in which my dog died of a punctured lung. It was awful, but in the light of day I was elated to be awake. My dog, very much alive, and with lungs that appeared to be functioning, was wagging her stump of a tail asking for food, walkies, and other niceties of the canine existence. A friend who spent the night was here too, lavishing attention on the living breathing little monster. Life seemed fully and completely magical. Because it is.
I’ve carried the energy of my happy morning all through the day. And I decided to do something with it. I bought 3 large canvases, took them to my Escapist studio and decided to paint fast and colorful. Something John said yesterday stuck with me, as his insights always do. He was talking to someone about his Justice series, which is brilliant in its dynamism. He said he painted it fast, and that when one paints slowly it generally feels contrived.
So yes, today I wanted to challenge myself to paint fast. I realized while I was doing this that one of the things that’s always moved me about certain pieces of art, is the energy of the brushstrokes. I always knew I loved texture, but never realized how much the energy and movement speak to me. So yes, this was completely satisfying. Also a good workout.
When I got home the dog was alive, perky, and pointy-eared. I took her to the park. She was so happy! I almost wonder if somehow she hypnotized me in my sleep, causing me to have a nightmare that’d get me to pay attention to her today. I wouldn’t put it past her. After all, she hangs out with witches.