The squirrel is satisfied right now. Satisfied, satiated, however it works. It turns out I have been missing out on a lot of things that I used to do that I have been ignoring in an attempt to be studious and adult like.
I can adult, I don’t like it though.
I want to make art; I want to write stories that are only outwardly about squirrels.
The squirrel is in my head and in my heart. The squirrel is the restless spirit inside of me that needs to be expressed to be satisfied.
I currently have two paintings in process and I am thinking about getting a second job for the purpose of buying more art supplies. I have been threatening to have an art show for a long time, I worry that I have not found my voice in art yet. I have not found what makes what I do different from what everyone else does.
Going to be thinking about that this weekend. I have two out of three of my days off left, today was supposed to be a day off but it was interrupted by a broken coffee roaster.
I have useful skills, turns out that the exhaust motor had died after only 15 or so years of use. Unfortunately when the cowboy that assembled the thing put it together he made no consideration of someone eventually having to change the motor out.
There was a cold chisel involved.
The roaster is working again now, it took me three hours to determine that the motor was the actual problem, and change the thing out.
I am pondering how many hours they are going to let me write down for that one, I used to get “repair” rates for doing that kind of thing.
But anyway, I am painting again. I used to paint and I enjoyed it, but I was trying to find my voice and nothing seemed to fit right. Since the last time I picked up a brush I got a BS in Geology and now I am looking at the rocks in the pictures completely differently. I am looking at the strata. I am looking at a picture of Shiprock in New Mexicoand instead of looking at the colors of the rocks as I try to duplicate I am looking at what the rocks are. I am pondering the sanidines in the rocks themselves. I am wondering how those radial dikes looked when they were forming thirty million years ago.
I look at pictures of auroras and I ponder what kind of torture the magnetosphere was going through at that moment that allowed that amount of ionizing energy to make it through the Van Allen radiation belts and into the ionosphere.
I may not adult well, but I can geek like no ones business.
It is amazing how slowly oil paints “dry” I use dry because they really don’t dry in the traditional sense of dry. They gradually desiccate of oils and stabilize. Even years from now you add a little linseed oil and you will still be able to move those aspect of the painting that you don’t like around a little bit.
Maybe fix some cracking or crazing from the picture not getting sealed properly. Speaking of which, you let the picture “dry” for six months, maybe less if I have it near the woodstove, and then seal it with a clear varnish. You have to let it seal for a long time though, because otherwise the act of varnishing will be enough to smear the image.
Acrylics are not as subject to these problems, oils are where the problems become really evident.
So I was pondering getting a second job for the holidays, a little extra cash, and maybe a discount on some supplies that I could use. I should be a shoe-in for a temp position, college degree and all of that stuff. If I can get a degree in geology I should be able to move items through a cash register.
The black base layer is almost dry now. I want to do one more aurora as I am putting together Christmas presents for people, along with looking for my voice.
What is it I say with my painting?
I am really curious to find out who I am.
It is something that I would really like to know.
Truthfully, once I find out who I am it will make it much easier to continue to be that person.