The Winter has the brightest sun, which warms the wood and brick of this old railroad warehouse. I can see my breath in the thin air, but I'm sheltered from the wind and elements, and once moving I seem to be lost in the making of things.
I got the base laid down, a hot goldish gloss which will eventually disappear except to add depth. I love mornings in the studio, they have become such a luxury in my life. There was a time when I painted first thing in the morning, and I would love to return to that schedule some day. For now, I get these stolen moments on weekends and I work nights.
I learned a long time ago not to quantify what I do. If I can get in here for half an hour, I take it. If things are too wet to work, I'll draw (or blog). The important thing is being here, because as nice as inspiration is, it is nothing without being able to execute one's visions when it comes. Showing up and getting dirty is the only road to somewhere.
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