I've just been reading in Writing Poems, so engrossed. And remembering things I forgot, and remembering things I still don't remember - terms I can't define.
So many terms...like lanky water birds beating the air and lifting.
I painted very little today, but I think I finished the boring piece and made it interesting. I composed it with colors I picked out intuitively at Home Depot three weeks ago. I realized all the colors where deep and bold. No neutrality, no sweet pastels, no glaring jewel tones. Rich and deep and bold. Even the green was passionate.
I met N today, and explained the painting "Bleeding Hearts". She shared some of her poems and drawings in a carefully stapled book, made of copy and construction paper. They were angsty, the work of a teenager, and I was so proud. And I couldn't do them justice.
So many terms...like lanky water birds beating the air and lifting.
I painted very little today, but I think I finished the boring piece and made it interesting. I composed it with colors I picked out intuitively at Home Depot three weeks ago. I realized all the colors where deep and bold. No neutrality, no sweet pastels, no glaring jewel tones. Rich and deep and bold. Even the green was passionate.
I met N today, and explained the painting "Bleeding Hearts". She shared some of her poems and drawings in a carefully stapled book, made of copy and construction paper. They were angsty, the work of a teenager, and I was so proud. And I couldn't do them justice.
