So I have decided that the title to this blog entry will mirror the titles of the paintings that make up my "Sometimes they come from space" collection of paintings. Birthing a show in which I had a concept that was clear and a time frame that was just as clear took a LOT out of me. More than I ever thought possible, actually.
I often don't paint for months at a time because I have nothing to say. In the month of June, I guess I had TONS to say and I gave birth to artwork like mothers push babies out of their birth canals. It was amazing and beautiful, yet painful and exhausting. I have ideas that I'd like to get out on canvas and when I pick up the paintbrush to go for it... I physically can't paint.
I turn on the same music I spent a month painting to, and instead of wanting to paint, I suddenly want to sing. I suddenly want to slack off and waste hours playing video games. I suddenly realize - I think I'm depressed. Is it possible to have post-partum depression even if you didn't give birth to a physical being? Granted, I think I gave birth to about 50 beings last month - so I guess it's possible. I'm just in a funk.
This too, shall pass - as they say.
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