Nothing reduces my stress (or increases my housekeeper’s stress :)) like art work. Of course I am being wildly optimistic by using the term ‘art’. Is scribbling water-soluable oil crayon all over a canvas and then blending the colors art? Who knows. But it’s a lot of fun.
Why do I need art therapy, you may ask? Don’t you have a new book coming out TODAY?
(“Deadly Deceptions”, book 2 in the Mojo Sheepshanks series).
Yes, I do have a book coming out today, and that always excites me–and makes me tense, too. So if I pour resin, or cut and bake polymer clay, or glue things to a collage, I don’t have to stand behind Wal-Mart waiting for the truck to come in and unload the new book.
I’m working on a large collage/mixed media/assemblage now–at this point, I just call it “the Lincoln piece”. Trust me, it will never hang in a museum or make my great-grandchildren rich. It is the visual counterpart of the first of my Civil War books, tentatively titled, “North of Eden”, a sort of tapestry to pin down some of the things going on in my head.
It’s a wild place, the inside of my head.
More tomorrow. Therapy awaits.