The floor of my studio is as pretty as a painting. If you like that type of painting. It is also a many layer historical record of my odd interests and obsessions.
The studio is a mess, and the house is just one big pile of mismatched mittens, and even the snow outside is dirty, and slowly rotting in that ugly way of snow that is mixed with sand, salt, and dog pee.
In February things start to slide a bit, and I find myself becoming a little scruffier each day. I’ve been told that it’s time for a haircut, and I wake up each morning with an oddly sculpted shag of hair that goes beyond bedhead and into abstraction. Maybe I’ll watch some Danish television to cheer myself up.
The other day someone posted a photograph on Facebook of a junkyard, and in the pile of junk there was a cat. I had to look hard, but when I found it I wondered why it took me so long to find it. The cat was so visibly different from its surroundings. My studio is like that junkyard. Except there isn’t a cat in it. Just a little boy hard at work painting.
Winter…I really hate it. The blizzard ripped through on the weekend, and I spent many hours trying to clear the driveway and walkways only to have more snow fall, and the wind drift banks of the stuff back over my efforts. Oddly I think the exercise did me some good, and in the end I ended up enjoying the storm. But I think I’m ready for spring.