I broke out the oil pastels today which are all melty and buttery in this Florida heat. I mostly forced myself to do something artistic today because I've been feeling so boring and uncreative. Whatever dull and drone-like anti-artistic funk that sets in gets such a terrible hold, driving me and everyone around me crazy. I can't stand myself when I'm like this. And to make it worse, all the artists I know here seem pretty chipper and creative all the time. They're bouncy, selling yesterday's painting an hour ago (ok, not really) when I'm sucking down coffee trying to keep myself up with a pen or paint brush or slick stick of oil pastel in my hand. Some people have all the luck. I take solace in Durer's Melencholia.
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