23 March 2012

Painting down the bones

I've been reading Natalie Goldberg. She wants me to write about the light coming in my window. The windows in my new apartment are old and get covered with condensation and it drips down onto the windowsill and then onto my bed. I don't mind. I like living alone. The price is right and, though north-facing, my apartment gets a ton of light. I'm not crazy about the neighborhood but I am revelling in the sanctity of this little apartment; having a place to work, to write, to host friends and lovers. It makes me feel like a grown up. I guess it seems ridiculous to say that at forty years old but I'm just now starting to feel like an adult. I feel capable and willing to do something meaningful with my life.

When I was in my twenties and an activist, I talked a lot about meaning and empowerment but there was so much ego in front of it. I was always trying to prove something. Now my actions feel like they are infused with actual meaning in themselves. It's not about proving anything to anyone it's just about doing the act.

(So I wrote the exercise above, from page 20 of Writing Down the Bones, using dictation software for the first time! It was super fun and reasonably accurate. )











I spent the day painting. My friend Eric came over this morning and we chatted while I put the finishing touches on a portrait of him I started five years ago. I used copal resin as a medium for the oil paint. I had never used it before and it opened up a whole new world. Normally I don't do such accurate portraits, but this one came out easy. After he left I just painted and painted. It has been a really long time since I painted all day. I feel blissed out now! And spent.

The first picture is what it looked like this morning, second picture what it looks like now.



1 comment:

Danielle said...

I'm in my own place now, too, and feel much the same way you do. Too many years with parents and/or husband. I love it here. I've been here 6 months now.