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I’m going through a bit of a low period and, as such, have been unable to get myself to do much of anything.
It’s a well-known phenomenon that there is a tendency for depression/psychosis and creativity to go hand-in-hand. As a profession, we apparently have a disproportionate number of suicides and drunks in our ranks (and before anyone asks, no, I am not threatening to become either, please don’t worry). It’s all part and parcel of being creative, apparently, and according to this article, evolution is to blame: being slightly depressed or otherwise disturbed makes us artsy types delightfully kooky and windswept and interesting enough to think outside the box and do new and wacky things. Or it just makes us sit still and be keenly observant of our surroundings and inner psyche. So in small doses, it is an advantage. In large doses, it’s crippling and in the case of many famous artists, it’s been devastating…
I am, unfortunately, not immune from this curse of the artistic and am somewhere in between on the depression spectrum most of the time (it’s nothing to really worry about, but it does make for some very very dry periods). Lately it’s been a bit more debilitating than other times, and try as I might, I have been unable to do anything: no writing, no painting, no cooking, no cleaning, no nada.
But guilt is a slight motivator and I did start a drawing. As I think I’ve said before, when I’m depressed, I draw. I’m not sure why, but I think it’s the lack of color, the sort of repetitive, solitary, focused nature of scribbling and working away at paper with a bit of graphite. It also takes less energy, which, when you’re feeling zapped of any get-up-and-go, is a godsend. I think the subject matter of this one kind of reflects how I’m feeling lately… tired. I would, if I could, sleep through life right about now. She isn’t what I was trying to make her at all. I had a sort of Mucha-like art nouveau type thing in mind with lots of swirls and embellishment, but I got too tired and gave up. She is how I am right now – sparse.
Sleep (WIP1)
But today has been a little better than the last couple days and I’ve actually been able to do a few things, like write this, for instance.
And then I went into the kitchen and saw this strange sight from my kitchen window and it reminded me that after the rain, there are rainbows…
The Ship at the End of the Rainbow
Recently I joined the lovely folks over at Wet Canvas, one of the major online forums out there for artists. I was trying to get more serious about my art and wanted to meet some fellow artists and form a network I could draw on in my attempt to get going with things.
One of the artists I’ve made the acquaintance of through this is Yevgenia Watts, who’s a wonderful watercolorist. I’m addicted to her stuff and recently bought one of her ACEO paintings. I’d expressed interest in the surface material (I know there’s a better word for this but it’s escaping me just now…) she uses frequently for her watercolors, Yupo, because it creates an interesting flowy, marbly look I hadn’t seen before in watercolors, and I had somehow managed to never hear about it before. It turns out it’s a plastic-coated synthetic paper, which means when you try to paint on it with watercolors, the paints slide all over the place as they please. So it’s a little harder to control than with normal watercolor papers.
When Yevgenia sent me the painting I bought, she kindly included a little piece of blank Yupo for me to try out. I have been a bit too afraid to try it, until today, when I thought, hey, you learn something new every day, why not give it a go?
And it was unpredictable in a slightly maddening way, but at the same time, I really enjoyed painting on it. I’m not sure you can tell what this is even supposed to be a picture of, but I kind of like that about it, it’s a lot freer and less exact than a lot of my paintings. So, yes, I had a blast trying it out today, and thanks, Yevgenia, for sending me that sample. I think I’ll definitely do more of this in the future. Only trouble now is finding a source for Yupo over here in Aberdeen.
Bowl Full of Cherries
I also wrote today. A lot. I just woke up this morning and started writing a scene in the middle of my book that I felt like writing about and it just started pouring out. I wrote about four or five pages, I think, which, given that I usually manage about a paragraph at a time in any given day, is quite the red letter day.
So all in all, it’s been a really productive, good day. Except for the bit where I downed tools and watched ‘The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.’ Boy, was that ever depressing. Good story, but wow… I feel in need of some comedy now.
I think drawing is a sort of comfort for me, like soup or a hot water bottle, I tend to only do it when I’m feeling a little low. I haven’t been sleeping well lately. I’m not sure why that’s the case, I can’t connect it to any particular anxiety, but the fact is, I was up till 3:30am last night and had to get up at 7, so I am well and truly knackered today. It’s been a bit like this all week, so I’m feeling a bit grouchy, a bit fragile and down. This *(£”&! weather isn’t helping either… what is up with this, Scotland? It’s July, not November. So why am I feeling like I’ve got SAD?
So, yesterday, I returned to my Sedna drawing. I’d actually forgotten about it until a friend mentioned it to me again the other day. There’s something about the total absorption and the repetitive strokes of drawing that is different than painting, which at least for me is more about dabbing here and there and standing back from your work more. Drawing seems more intense somehow, more solitary and focused. It did my soul good and I felt a little happier afterwards, although it didn’t help me sleep, unfortunately.
Sedna (WIP 3)
It hasn’t gotten that much further, I’m a slow drawer, and I’d like to get the animals in the background sort of interconnected more, rather than just sort of stuck on willy-nilly like they are at the moment. And I need to adjust them to make them look more like they’re swimming – I just copied them kind of literally from on-land photographs. But I can get to that, still.
I also saw something while we were driving out to my mother-in-law’s through the countryside last weekend. It was a herd of black and white cows standing in a field, with a flock (er, murder?) of crows flying just over their heads. There was something about the black of the crows and the black and white of the cows that I found visually interesting, and I thought, hmm, that’d make a cool painting. So I have a vision in my head for another painting, but rather than paint yesterday I did something that I normally never do – I did a preliminary sketch.
Cows & Crows (Sketch)
Yeah, I know, bad artist. We’re supposed to keep sketch books and sketch anything and everything, but I’ve just never really done that. I’m not sure why. I think it’s because, like my handwriting, I don’t like the way my sketches look. I know they’re not supposed to be perfect, but my sketches never look all windswept and interesting like so many artists’ sketchbooks you see, they just look plain old messy to me. But for a change, I thought I’d actually dust off my sketchbook and take a spin at doing a prelim sketch of a painting, for a lark. I suppose it was a good idea. For one, I’m not sure I like the haybales. Too busy, so I think I’ll leave those out in the final painting.
My husband told me, when I first met him over a critique of my first portfolio website, that I needed to concentrate more on my drawing. Perhaps he had a point there…
Two small paintings in one day!
The first of clouds in a blue sky, as a study in doing puffy clouds. It’s harder than it looks.
Blue Skies
The other is after this photograph taken by Mel Huitson of a gorgeous sunset (minus her husband in the foreground, since I wanted purely a landscape). I don’t think it does the photograph justice, but it was an interesting challenge.
Sunset at Coquet River weir
It’s miserable and rainy out today – ah, Scottish summers – so I have to paint prettier skies for myself, I guess, alas… Hope you’re all having lovely weekends.
Although this blog was started primarily as an outlet for my paintings, I feel it’s time I come out of the closet and tell you that although my heart belongs to painting, it also kind of belongs to writing, probably about equally as much. But I don’t advertise that fact because I feel a lot more private about my writing. Perhaps I don’t feel quite as confident in my abilities as a writer, perhaps I feel like there’s more of me in my writing than in my paintings, or that I can’t hide the autobiographical aspects as well in the written medium as I can with paint.
Whatever it is, I always considered writing a pleasant hobby, but my painting something that I should be getting ‘serious’ about. I always did well in school whenever we had writing projects, I was part of a two-woman writing club (Crypt Milkshakes – don’t ask), and I almost always have something or other on the go, but somehow the visual art was what I got most of the praise for, so that’s what my identity sort of solidified around. But the painting just isn’t enough for me. Paintings let me create a thing of beauty, a litte snapshot to hang on a wall, a solid item. But writing lets me create a world I can escape to when this real world gets a little bit dreary or depressing, which, let’s face it, is a lot of the time. It’s either that or anti-depressants, so it’s vital to me.
But I’ve suffered from writer’s block the same way I’ve suffered from painter’s block in the last few years. As I said in my introduction, I’ve read so many books for getting your creative mojo back and tricks of the trade both for painters and writers, but so far nothing’s stuck.
Until today, I think. And it came from the unlikeliest of sources. I spent the weekend at my mother-in-law’s house in the country. She lives in a gorgeous Victorian house with a nice big garden that’s been lovingly tended and landscaped and a study and a conservatory that always make me think of the game Clue, even though they are admittedly much less grand. My sister-in-law is a writer too – she actually makes her living at it – so there are quite a few books on writing on the bookshelves in the study, and I raided those shelves this weekend and found a couple books that looked interesting and borrowed them.
Since last night I’ve been reading a book called ‘Becoming a Writer’ by Dorothea Brande. It’s not your typical book on how to write plots and develop characters, it’s more a psychology book for writers who are struggling to get started despite a keen desire to write. I was shocked, because it really hit home, all of it, and seemed to touch on so many of the things I was secretly worrying about or the bad habits I had developed that are keeping me stuck where I am with, actually, both my writing and painting. And even more surprising, it was written in 1934! But, aside from some references to typewriters and ‘contemporary’ writers like Faulkner and Virginia Woolf, it really seems like it could have been written by someone today, and it all applies today as much as it did back then. So I’ve decided to do the first and most important exercise she prescribes – writing for a half hour every morning first thing when still half-asleep, and writing for 15 minutes at a specific and exact time in the evenings (9pm for me).
I guess my purpose of telling you all here is both to recommend this book to anyone trying to write, who hasn’t yet read it, and also to announce my intention to follow this schedule, so that I’m more inclined to stick with it, and so that people don’t try to call me up/talk to me from 9:00-9:15PM! 😉
Summoning of the Muse 