Cooling My Heels

Hello fellow bloggers! I've missed you all, and I've missed posting to this blog.

My new home closes in five weeks and in the meantime, I'm rattling around my little apartment, dreaming and scheming and decorating in my head.

I've learned that trying to work in my current space ranges from terrifying to irritating: a mess neatly contained behind a closed studio door signals intense work, and creativity, and joy. A mess spread out across my make-shift dining room, viewable from all angles and spilling into the rest of the space, is nearly unbearable (what can I say, I'm obsessively neat.) I've attempted several art projects and been only moderately successful in achieving my goals with them, but I live in fear of destroying furniture that I own and carpeting I'm only renting. The fear is based in reality, too, when I consider the amount of time I spent trying to scrape yellow sand mixed with glue off my dining room chairs.

This is the longest I've been away from work since the day more than ten years ago that I decided to make art full-time. So, no creating.

But even still, there's a lot of creativity needed in building a home, and I've been sucking every drop of it out of the experience that I can, eager (and a little desperate) to appease my stubbornly insistent muse.

I've got new work planned out in my head for the day I can get into my soon-to-be studio. And I've been shopping. Oh, boy, have I been shopping. Some of it is the real deal, purchasing and putting on hold new furniture to fill all that square footage; some of it is mental and emotional, generating ideas and strategies for living in my new space.

All of it keeps me in a state of almost constant agitation and excitement for the day we can finally move in; I'll be ready to hit the ground running.

Five. More. Weeks. That sound you hear is my jittery nerves.

Hope you all are happily creating!