Including the dog. (Just kidding.)
My fingers– my clothes–everything around here is paint-speckled. I see some of my experimental rubber stamping on tissue paper soaked right through to the table top. There are little faces with eyes and everything looking up at me from the surface.
I started an abstract painting yesterday, and since the main color is my beloved quinacrodone crimson, parts of the studio resemble a crime scene. The painting is coming along nicely, actually, but it needs some time to dry before I noodle with it any more. The tendency to noodle is one of my failings.
Around here, the general concensus is that I REALLY need a vacation.
I agree. I keep thinking thoughts like, “this time next week, I’ll be in Spain”.
I can’t wait. Travel recharges me in ways nothing else does, and I expect Barcelona to jazz me up on every level.
And that’s the news from Linda’s kitchen table on this so far cloudy morning.