Unbelievably it’s been 64 days since I had a quiet space to paint in. I skirted around the issue of settling to something yesterday by finding jobs to be done elsewhere, but always at the back of my mind was a little voice saying “Aren’t you going to use that lovely new studio?” Quite honestly I was panicking that I’d forgotten what to do, that I wasn’t worth such a fine room etc, etc. You may have met that Gremlin yourself.
Then I happened across the article above from the Guardian and was immediately calmed. If I could just go and live an interesting life, go and paint something rather than nothing, then maybe I would feel happy about it. And of course the outcome could only be judged after the painting was done, not before.
And so the Gremlin stayed outside the room and I have begun to find my feet again.
