A Year of Making Art: Day 29

This morning, out of the blue, I have an overwhelming sense of foreboding.  Blue and lavender are the colors I used to express these feelings in a drawing.  Listening to Judy Carmichael did not help to lift my mood.  I printed the words as I thought them:  "Sense of foreboding."  "Who am I?" "Death, Life." "So tired."

At seventeen, looking into the mirror in my dorm room at the University of Southern California, I asked, "Who am I?"  I had become disassociated from my self for the moment.  When I told a good friend and she, frightened, reported it to the dorm mother, I quickly shaped up.  I did not want the dorm mother meddling in my private affairs.

Earlier in my teens I had written a typical teen angst poem that asked, "Who am I?"  But to still be asking that question at sixty-five?!

The first line I wrote on the drawing was "tools of the trade," because I was feeling that these pens I am using will not allow me to express myself adequately.  I longed for other tools.  And I wondered how the tools we use constrict our lives and our expressions of our lives.

Here's the drawing.  Nothing much.

  Drawing #28

All is going well in my life, so where did this mood come from?  Am I beginning to be anxious already about the upcoming exhibits in June?  It's way too early for that!

Why am I always waiting for things to be over?  I gobble up my life in this waiting.

And now I will try to finish Canvas #9.

Later:  Yes, I did destroy the painting Adrian liked yesterday.  And then I kept working.  And now I have this one:

  Canvas #9, now "Culmination"

And now I will go on with my "to do" list and ignore this mood.

(Note:  There is a gap between the dates I'm writing and posting because I had to give myself time to get ahead in case we travel and I'm not able to post.)