Work in Progress with Jonathan Ross playing on my laptop
This isn’t a new piece. In fact it’s been lying around incomplete in my folder for ages.
I stopped drawing for nearly a year. Not sure why. I just was reading a lot of Barbara Cartlands mostly. Inhaling them like they were cocaine, (Just to be clear I don’t, haven’t and won’t ever inhale real cocaine. I don’t approve of anything stuck up anyones nose after the time my brother got a red crayon stuck up his and I laughed so hard I cried) and I suppose I took a sabbatical.
I wish I was a kept woman (like some people I know), then all I’d do is draw all day. But I imagine that system only works if you’re willing to breed or happen to be a good housekeeper. One thing is certain: I am neither willing to breed nor can I housekeep.
So I’ve picked it up where I left off. Sometimes my focus wavers a little. I come home from work and find myself frittering away 2 hours on the interweb.
It’s been quite frustrating drawing on this desk. Right now the desk is smaller than the drawing. Paint brushes roll off it, pens drop off it, my ear phone cables keep getting yanked. Nothing fits on it and painting in certain places that don’t fit on the table (like the corners) are a right pain.
I have to turn the paper vertically and move the desk and chair back so the drawing isn’t rammed into the wall. The ex keeps yelling that I’m taking up too much room – It’s both aggravating and uncomfortable. There is a lot of huffing and puffing now and then.
Do other people have these problems? How do they cope? Is it just me?
I’ve developed a serious case of ‘desk-envy’. People post pictures of their desk – Spacious tables with place for their printers, scanners, pen holders, brush holders. Plants! What seems like the height of luxury to me now.
Regardless of these small, trifling difficulties and my complaints (At least I haven’t lost my ear or gotten syphilis from a life-model) I’ve resolved to finish all my incomplete work before I start anything new (So hard!)
That includes the first 2 Goddesses and this one. Then I can start some other ones.
Nearly there! I just need to paint all the tables white and maybe touch up the sky.
Trying to finish it tonight or tomorrow.
Alrighty, back I go to the discomfort desk.
I love this piece, I want a seat at one of the tables.
Speaking of which, I’ve taken to starting all my drafts in a notebook and finding odd little places to sit down and write. On the weekends I bee-bop my way around town, alighting at cafes and libraries and city park benches. I can’t tell you how freeing it has been to ditch the laptop and take my show on the road.
{thumbs in ears, waggling fingers at you, because I’m a writer and you’re an artist and my stuff is more portable–also because I’m eternally eight years old.}
There are 2 free seats on the lower right corner. Please do sit. Have a macaroon
That is a the nice thing about being a writer. All you need is a paper and pen and preferably legible handwriting.
Even my mini moleskin sketch book comes with paraphernalia – pencil box, colour pencils, scribble paper. Sigh. I can strip it down though to just pen and paper, but I like colour. I used to be afraid of it.
Oh dear, your laptop teetering over that edge is making me terribly nervous, i say!
i know! I thought that as I pulled it right to the edge, because the earphones were really yanking my head everytime i leaned to dip my paint brush.
Just dont let it crash!
I don’t know how people deal with this problem. I am personally not dealing with it well. My work station is at the dining room table (we don’t have a kitchen table, so it is THE table.) I have to move my supplies to the side for every meal (which sucks). I feel like I am constantly keeping pencil shavings out of my soup and ink from off of the wood… horrible, but it’s the only place for now…
I hate moving stuff and then re-setting up. I have to do that otherwise the ex gets irate. You just want everything there, ready for you.
I have that same issue in Bombay. But its a nice big table so it pays off sort of in the scheme of things
My work station is my dining room table, too. Also no kitchen table. All my art supplies are kept in a corner in the basement. At mealtimes, I move all my stuff down to the basement and then move it back up again afterwards. In the summer, at least, I can set my easel up outside and just move things into the garage at nighttime (when I am painting instead of cutting up scrap paper… scrap paper is probably still an inside project.) Artists need studios. That’s just how it is. Maybe someday…
gosh thats hard work. and i imagine you have a lot of bits and pieces to move
Wouldn’t it be easier to lay it on the floor and work? Although I suppose it would be a tad uncomfortable
not really, my back would get messed up. I’ve tried drawing on my bed, but unless you can sit like its a table its too difficult.
How did you figure out I’m a kept woman?
But I don’t even have a desk. Maybe I should turn a few tricks on the side and save up?
[you should write: 'nor can I housekeep' instead. 5 quid, please]
Fluke guess you lucky lucky girl.
Yes you are right, it should be ‘nor’.
Gracias. Writing is also a work in progress.
What is this flourescenty orange item at the bottom right of the frame anyway?
Did you drop a dildo?
That might be an interesting way to work, buzzing a toy . . . .
An orange pencil box of course. It has my glitter pens in it
But it is no wonder you are a kept woman.
You’ve got a throughly filthy mind
I’ve got a box where you can hide some glitter pens.
Just sayin’. . . .
I’ve pumped out more artwork than I know what to do with and I’ve never had a desk. I’m a squatter. I squat on the floor for hours. It kills me!
I can imagine! I’m just going to huff-and puff and struggle on te desk until I get a bigger flat or a bed I can draw on without worrying about ruining sheets and tedious domestic things like that.
Pingback: Drawings for Your Boobs « Tin Roof Press
Pingback: High Tea – Final « Tin Roof Press