One place I have been lately, is in my studio, a place where I never ever felt that I could possibly spend enough time. My studio is chock full of art supplies, paper, unfinished projects, etc., and I had a running joke with myself that if I were ever locked inside, I could not possibly use up all the supplies I had. Whoever would have guessed that this would more or less come to pass?
So I set out to try and try and at least use up the watercolor paper I had on hand, and started painting really quick gestural wet-on-wet landscapes, using pen, gouache, Daler-Rowney acrylic ink, and India ink. My husband calls them “scratch paintings.”
Sometimes I work from my photos, and sometimes I page through photos on Flickr, painting places where I have never physically been, but now at least have virtually been, thanks to the generosity of many fine photographers.
While I have been painting, I have been listening to Dorothy Dunnet’s The Lymond Chronicles (my second time through this series), which has been incredibly transporting. As a result, I have knocked out about a zillion of these things, and feel compelled to keep going, even though I am starting to feel like Jack Nicholson in The Shining, except that instead of boxes of typewritten pages, I have boxes of watercolor paintings.
