I have been pretty upset with myself lately.
I still am not painting or writing. It is driving me crazy.
I miss painting. I miss my artwork.
I am finally not angry with myself about it. For a long time I felt that I had given so much of my energy to other people that I had neglected what was beautiful within me; and once I realized my mistake it was too late, my creativity had been left out in the rain and was ruined.
For years I felt that I had nothing to say.
Now, I feel that even if I did, who'd care to hear it?
So, these are a sketch from last years life drawing class, two old paintings (Salome and I'm Ready) and one more recent sketch (Red Corset) that still has not made it out of my sketchbook and onto watercolor paper.
I hate being stuck.