Painting’s not something I seem to be particularly good at, although you can read more about that here, but it is something I find to be quite therapeutic and relaxing which maybe beggars the question why I don’t do more of it!?  Still, it’s one of those things that, unless you’re in the right mood, it just seems like it’s too messy and too much hassle and wouldn’t it be better just to crash in front of the telly … least it would if we had broadcast tele to put on, alas however, I digress.

I sat for about an hour last night, when I should have been thinking about going to bed and started chucking paint at my art journal, I can’t even remember why I opened it but it wasn’t to do this:

 

I mentioned that I find it therapeutic, and I don’t mind telling you that it’s at this time of year when it’s cold and dark and you’re feart to feed the fire for the cost of coal that therapy is required.  Seemingly though it’s not the darkness of the night that bothers me, it’s the darkness behind my eyelids when I close them to sleep that bothers me …

… although that may be a post for another day.

Certainly when I started painting (the one above) I was feeling down and was really just looking for something to do, it turned out that this was the “something”, with a few random tracks from my music collection playing in the background I attacked the canvas with paint and brush working quickly and fluidly adding paint, colour and water as the mood took me.  By the end I felt invigorated, and if not ecstatic, certainly in a more upbeat mood than I had done previously … it’s fairly noticeable, least it is in my head.

I can remember one of the first paintings I did, I had actually planned it out a couple of days in advance, but when I sat down to paint I was in fury.  The kids had been driving me mental and I’d finally sent them off to bed having been subjected to all manner of nonsense, after they had gone I sat down workman like with my card and paint and started work.

 

By the time it was finished, I was practically at peace with the world … remarkable, and certainly not the effect that an episode of Eastenders or the like would have had on me.

You can read more about my inability to paint at Made Stuff.