Art, cleaning and looming exercise

Well I did sort of have a bit of a rest over the weekend. I reckon I did about 4 hours painting on Saturday and then I chilled out with the old crochet and some mediocre TV viweing. It's rather lovely and self indulgent to spend time on the couch with my beloved, nattering and poking fun at the telly while we both do a bit of making. He was painting his competition entry for September, which is coming along very nicely, despite his frequent outbursts of oh-my-god-this-is-crap-and-I'll-never-get-it-finished. I guess we all know that one pretty well when we're putting ourselves under pressure.

I'm doing a bit of sorting out in our geek room at the moment. There are things turning up that would beggar belief. I had no idea that there were still things hanging round that I painted/made up to 15 years ago, but they're there alright. I'm also unearthing all kinds of materials and "useful things" that past me put away for future me to use. Good old planning and forethought there I say. Hopefully it will all soon be sorted, labelled and put in the cupboard ready to be found at the glance of an eye. Unfortunately there's only one person who can do that, and she's not really all that keen on putting things in order, especially when there are so many other things to be put away. Could be a while yet.

A giant sketchbook is my best find so far. My hazy memory of it was a few pages of studies along the theme of fish and such, but in reality it's about 60 pieces in varying stages of explosive graphite stick, charcoal, paint and pastel. It includes loads of peculiar drawings of a whole squid I bought from Morrisons, along with some mackerel, mussels, dried poppy heads and the trusty old dried seahorse. This is my favourite image from it. I might display it in the house somewhere.

I was considerng this painting earlier. I really like it; it's from a time when I was doing a lot of intricate painting studies and probably embodies the whole style and skill level I'd achieved back then. This one makes me realise why artists sell their work for such a hefty price. I'm not sure how much money it would take to make me part with this, but it'd be quite a lot. I suppose it's about my personal feelings and relationship with both the work and my memories of the time I did it. Sentimental claptrap really. Others might find it dull and uninspiring, it's all a matter of taste. That seahorse was the business though, I loved him.

I'm not sure how much work will get done today. My priorities must revolve around the house and jobs I need to do in order to make it bearable being in here for the rest of the week. I've also got my first zumba class tonight, and while it's not 'til 7pm, I already feel like I can't get involved in anything else beforehand. Crazy talk, I know, but that's just how I roll. No doubt there'll be an enlightening blog coming up tomorrow about the shaking of my booty and/or the trials/injuries/embarrassments caused by going. Watch this space.