I have no idea what just happened.
Feb. 6th, 2008 07:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
serindeI had a day composed of frustration, self-loathing, and despair (and hormones) and felt incredibly woeful by the time I got on the train. Feelings did not get better, and I was as emo as a truck full of MySpace and listening to "Sister Rosetta" by Alabama 3 when I saw a painting in my mind's eye, the capturing of which was instantly of the utmost importance.
I have paints...somewhere.
OK, charcoal. I would sketch it in charcoal/ash (since we haven't cleaned out the fireplace, aheheh) and paint later.
On what?
I was grimly and slightly-hysterically considering ripping the back off a pizza box when I thought that maybe the Rite-Aid by the train station might have posterboard, at least. And so they did. I twitched in line, feeling like Coleridge hearing the man from Porlock coming up the walk, because I felt that if I didn't get this down out of my head as fast as possible, it would fade like dreams do if you don't write them down first thing you wake up.
And then it started bucketing rain on the way home. I howled in frustration but Did It Anyways, taping the soggy posterboard to the back of my workroom door (that also was sub-optimal, let me say), turning off all the lights, lighting six or seven candles, and using chunks of charred wood to sketch--more or less--what was in my head.
I looked at it in the light, after. I have no idea if it sucks or what. But I am going to try and paint it. (Can you paint on posterboard?)
I now feel like the-day-after-Ecstasy.
I have paints...somewhere.
OK, charcoal. I would sketch it in charcoal/ash (since we haven't cleaned out the fireplace, aheheh) and paint later.
On what?
I was grimly and slightly-hysterically considering ripping the back off a pizza box when I thought that maybe the Rite-Aid by the train station might have posterboard, at least. And so they did. I twitched in line, feeling like Coleridge hearing the man from Porlock coming up the walk, because I felt that if I didn't get this down out of my head as fast as possible, it would fade like dreams do if you don't write them down first thing you wake up.
And then it started bucketing rain on the way home. I howled in frustration but Did It Anyways, taping the soggy posterboard to the back of my workroom door (that also was sub-optimal, let me say), turning off all the lights, lighting six or seven candles, and using chunks of charred wood to sketch--more or less--what was in my head.
I looked at it in the light, after. I have no idea if it sucks or what. But I am going to try and paint it. (Can you paint on posterboard?)
I now feel like the-day-after-Ecstasy.
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no subject
Date: 2008-02-07 12:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-07 01:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-07 11:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-07 01:22 pm (UTC)Watercolors are pretty much out of the question, but this is just a sketch. Refine it, work it...transfer it to something more substantial. Paint away. Happy muse. :)