Within one week the vision became reality, stretching from the base of the molding,
up and through the middle of the ceiling. The half finished tree was flat, streaky and resembled nothing
more than thorny telephone pole with tentacles. I was never told to paint over, fix or cover the hideous attempt of a mural.
My parents ability to entertain & support my wild ideas
is one of the many things I admire most about them.
Snow day+down time=hours of sifting through half painted canvases
& half written journals in my old studio above Cedars.
I parted with much of the old while salvaging a bit in hopes it will eventually become new.
By the end of the master cleaning I have come to the realization
that my 6th grade "unfinished" creative habits are still in full swing.
snow day realization #2: my easels new kitchen local doesn't look allll that bad..
that 'unfinished-ness' is inherent to most creative endeavors. unless you redefine and truly accept what 'finished' means to you and your work, you'll never actually feel 'finished'. but that's not such bad thing either. good post. good parents. good luck.
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