I like paper. I like writing on paper. I like drawing on paper. I like Paper 53. I like learning how to use Paper 53 on the iPad.
In the beginning I was too excited to be intimidated. I was like a kid with my first crayons. You know I didn’t need a manual, right? The best way to get wet is to dive right in; and so I did. I checked out every possible way to make pretty marks. I turned eyes into fish. I went all abstract. I sketched. I made random art. Oh, what fun!
Wanting to master the app, I watched the video. Aha! It was intimidating. I became intimidated. My doodles turned timid. Before then I was working three or four sketchbooks. Showed my stuff to anyone who would look at it. Then I was too intimidated. I snubbed my nose at Insomnia with 53 in a circle. I had fun. I had fun in living color! Then I was intimidated. I put it aside. For weeks. Then a month. Time passed.
Last night I caught up on some of my favorite blogs. INSOMNIA. I like this blog: http://www.wagonized.typepad.com. Other artists inspire me. This one does for sure. And, since I want to be as good on an iPad as I think I am on paper, why I had to take up my stylus yet again, and march forward to conquer that old enemy, Doubt. The only way I can slay it is with . . . Practice, practice, practice! Right?
Training my stylus to do what my brain and my arm tells it, is rewarding beyond measure. When I experiment without hearing my worst critic, I have fun. I work my stylus (BAMBOO) the way I once worked my crayons! So. Here I go again . . .
Okay. There is no pretending that this is a stellar drawing. I have done very little art work since my sister passed on, so am more than rusty; yet, this is good enough for me. Sheesh. Am distracted by the bulge. BRB. Gotta go fix it.
Okay. It is done. I am too lazy to scan another copy, so I hope you will take my word that the tweaked drawing is much better. So. I did the sketch for my brother, who is the only person I know who doesn’t the name of the fastest man on the planet. To help him out, I decided to send him the entire Olympics 2012 sport section of the NYT I’ve been saving for any possible future grands that might come my way. Since I could not send him such marvels in a plain white envelope, I tarted it up just a little. Hope you get at least a smile from my efforts.
Sometimes a girl needs wings to traverse a balance beam.
Haven’t used My Therd Eye much lately. Creativity has been pushed out–tamped down–high jacked by Death. Pleased to have had the presence of mind to take it with me when I went out back today to check things out after all the rain, I spied these two. Made me LOL. No matter what–life goes on, doesn’t it?
Hanging on, or hung up?
Free-falling. If I let go, and when I land,
I hope I land on my back. Facing the sky.
I hope I don’t fall hard enough to die.
I check what grows each day. I search for enemies that invade and attack. It might take a little time, but I sit and stare until the enemy reveals itself. Then I make an assault. Sometimes I let my Therd Eye collect relevant data before I make a move. Like I did with this guy. I don’t have a clue to its reason for squatting. Not yet anyway, but it’s beautiful. Such lovely colors.
There’s nothing lovely about the Black Hole. It tends to eat up time. It tends to swallow colors. It tried to disguise itself as depression. It forced me to learn the difference between it and the Big D. The Big S (Sadness) piggybacks Grief and Mourning, and it can fool you into thinking loss has triggered an Episode.
It happened to me. Having come so far, it was heavier than the Big D, and it felt different. Its colors were different. It had a different smell. This came:
See? Cartoons aren’t always funny, but who said they had to be? I saw this one as The Swallow. Pun came on its own. Sadness is blue. Light blue. Depression can be a deep purple, aubergine, gray, black, or full red. Full red is “Danger, Willa Robinson! Get help!” I have learned to examine my funks. The trick is being aware, remembering to examine myself–like doing a breast self-exam. And yes, a prostate self-exam. It doesn’t hurt to ask for another opinion. I did. I asked O-Bird about the differences between sadness and depression. Before I was better I never examined sadness. Anything less than even or up was the dreaded valley. My sister passed on the 5th of May. I have been sinking since then, and . . . Wow. I have to go draw what I just saw. Yes, it’s a cartoon. And yes, it might be humorous, but you can’t tell if I don’t draw it. But . . . I cannot know for sure if what’s eating me is something as bad as this . .
. . . or is as simple as this . . .
. . . unless I check it out.
. . . represents the way I feel inside. This is how life look since my sister passed on: hollowed out, like a black hole, dark, empty, flat, surreal, unreal, introverted . . .
Caring about anything beyond the basic basics demands too much energy. More than I seem to have. It’s been two months but too often it feels like two days. It’s been long enough that I’ve forgotten the passwords to five of my seven blogs. Like I care. The old me would be in a major panic. The same old me doesn’t care right now. Maybe later. Or not.
I don’t have much that wants saying. My drawings aren’t funny or annoying. Since May 5 there have been few, and the ones that managed to break free are sad or moody. And we know how death and mourning are avoided like they’re catching.Or maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m the one who wants to avoid my sister’s passing and my own mourning.