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I miss having access to an art press. I miss my Fridays at the press, getting exhausted dirty and creative. I miss the adrenaline and the rush. I also miss the results of my labour.

I had a regular Friday gig which I loved completely ‘until’ … (why is there always a conjunction associated with love?) Well, within the world of art and artists are extreme emotions and personalities just as in any area of life ‘but’ in my case the height of sensitivity in the environment killed my joy of the studio.

One day the owner, who allowed free use of all her studio paints with the price of the rental accused me of hiding her paints and coveting them as my own. Yikes! The relationship ended on the spot. I felt I had no choice. Normally, and at earlier times in life I would deny or try or do anything to take the black mark away. I was devastated, naturally as I knew I was going to walk away from the sweetest days ever as an artist, ‘but’ I also knew I could not be under a watchful suspicious eye and produce art of calibre in that environment.

I told a friend of this dilemma saying ‘Geesh artists are so sensitive!’ meaning of course the owner. Being a true friend her throaty laugh accompanied two words, ‘Ya think?’

I still believe I made the right decision ‘but’ in doing so I cut off one of my arms. Now, I am going through a bit of withdrawal, actually a lot of it and need to kick my own butt out into the world of artists again. Adjusting my thinking and psych as I write this, ‘because’ it can be a very intimidating experience to fit into the fold of extraordinary artists. Β Wish me luck!

Above are a few of the pieces that resulted from my Friday Art Days… too bad a press would cost me about $3000 because then I could continue to be an art hermit πŸ™‚