I've been in a slump. Nothing I have painted the last couple of weeks has gotten me excited, and I've thrown out more half-completed work than usual. It's the weather, grey and close enough to zero to hurt; it's an up-coming exhibit that I set the bar a bit too high for; it's the fact that there's no snack food in the house; did I mention the weather? I'm fairly certain I'm one of those folks who should wear a full-spectrum-light hat around from October to May.
I'm working my way out of this little Gulch of Gloom by giving myself a break. Rather than try to work through it by, well, working through it, I'm caving in.
I think it's working.
I rested the last two days, which means I slept late and took naps . I ate a handfull of chocolate chips without feeling the least bit guilty. (Well, actually two handsfull.) Went out to eat with friends and did not order off the healthy menu.
When I did enter the Studio of Sadness I did so only to straighten up from the last week. There's nothing on my easel, which means there's nothing to feel inadequate about. The pile of reference photos and scraps of important papers have been returned to their respective folders or trash bins. The oil paints and pastel sticks have been put back into their storage space and those paintings that never made it out of their infancy have been wiped clean and put away for another day. A clean studio means a clean slate. (Is there a pun in there?)
While I was there digging out from a couple of weeks of frustration, I noticed hanging on the back of my studio door my vision board, created months ago. It was like seeing an old friend unexpectedly at the grocery store. As I revisited the images and thought about the reasons for their selection I felt the weight of my frustrations slip from my shoulders. My vision board reflected images of delight and fun, acceptance and letting go of junk (like slumps). It reflected my journey, the part already taken and the steps yet to be made. And this smiling woman in all kinds of mis-matched fabrics that remind me that it's okay to be who I am.
In the immortal words of Scarlett O'Hara, "Tummarah is unuthah day."
middle image 20x20 mixed media
bottom image 5x7 oil, Sunlit Trees