I’m sitting here, surrounded by projects; a good start on an encaustic nude, sketches for a glass and 3P encaustic tower combining mosaic and wax, as well as bits of fused glass awaiting the kiss of the torch and the silver to become pendants.
Yet the arms are not cooperating today, instead, they are demanding their day of rest. Mutiny, I say!! Not to be tolerated, I proclaim!
The hands let go of the tools, the glass bits are all over the floor, and all of my proclamations mean absolutely nothing to my arms. It’s almost an unbearable physical pain. My art projects, my supplies, they are waiting for me!
I promised my husband these days of rest, yet OCD knows no promises. At least not ones that don’t suit it’s agenda of me working on art. I’ve so far resisted the urge to turn on my wax palette. It’s not easy, I’ll say that. I keep hearing this little voice saying to me, “Turn me on…turn me on…just a single brush stroke…just one…”
I know better than to believe THAT! It’s one brush stroke to suck me in, then it’s half a piece and a pan of carbonized pork chops later before I emerge. The husband, Chuck, usually the embodiment of easy-going, has put his foot down. No more cooking and working on art! Those carbonized pork chops really happened. Hell, I was so involved, I didn’t hear the smoke detector! It took forever to get the smoke off of the white cupboards. I was humble for DAYS!!
So here I sit, in the throes of a dilemma: do I work on a project? Will he figure it out if I do? How could he miss it? My word has to mean something. I’ve never broken a promise to him before, why start now?
The wax, the glass, the heat, the fire, the combination of mosaic, encaustic, oils and light are almost too much to leave alone!!
I guess it’s a good thing that I find myself with rebellious hands and arms that are not into art today. It sure is making it easier to keep that promise…
This nude is chubby, yes, she is! On purpose. She’s representative of most women. I don’t like the stick thin, exaggerated boobs and nonexistent hips that most of the modern media considers to be the ideal female figure. I don’t care for the Kardashians on general principal, but I do have to give those girls kudos for having actual curves!
I’ve never liked the emaciated look, the ana or the heroine chic looks; those lifestyles mask a lot of pain and suffering, so no thanks. I like my models to be real women. Women who have had kids, women who have led lives like mine. I can’t identify with the woman who’s had it really easy in life, as that is not my experience. I don’t resent them, but I don’t know them, so I don’t want to paint them. I like to paint the woman next door, the woman with lots of life experience, who’s got some scuffs from the journey.
I’ve tried male models before, it didn’t work out too well. It was an interesting experience, because I found the guy that was an exhibitionist, and they do NOT make good models. They don’t take direction for beans! Instead, he stood there with a stiffie he was inordinately proud of, and made a mess on my studio floor. Thankfully, I had a sense of humor and a box of rubber gloves. I needed both!