i miss the process of sharpening my pencil, taking my time, and thinking of a million things when doing so.
i miss the sound of my pencil on textured paper... i miss the the strokes, the varying forces of pressure, all the shades and tones the lines curves and figures...
i miss the brush the canvas and the strong smell of cheap turpentine.. i miss my palette, the half full color tubes all so squashed and scattered, i miss the process of mixing colors trying so hard to come up with the perfect shade of color, i miss my sprint to the stationary store across the street to buy a particular shade of blue that would give me my ever so magical shade of purple when mixed with deep red.
no outlines, only areas of colors does it all...
Black is not aloud on my palette, in my tool box or anywhere near me, i miss giving black away or even throwing it out the window!
its been long, i really missed u my dear muse, its always tough times without you around.
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3 comments:
Why did you stop?
i stopped because i was empty!
i stopped because it started to turn into a mechanical routine, into somthing i have to do.
i stoppped because somtimes i have doubts abt my talent and if it worth the fight! (if any of this crap makes sense anyway)
It makes perfect sense.. story of my life you can say!
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