Let them eat art

I'm trying to figure out what my relationship with art is these days. I have so many different feelings about painting come over me throughout the day.

At times I feel paralyzed. I'm at a loss of what to paint, even when I have time. I loved working on my final show. I loved having one idea to delve into, to tear apart, to put together, to research, write and create about. But now I don't have a clue what to make. I need to find a new avenue to pursue. Or should I just keep down the one I'm already on?

Other times, I can't wait for the weather to warm up, for Summer to get here and turn into Autumn. I want to paint in Italy. I want to put my brush to board in Bologna and mindlessly paint beautiful scenes. But then I wonder how in the world I'll entertain my child while I'm set up on the street somewhere . . .

Yesterday I felt like what I've done isn't worth much and it's not getting me anywhere. Why did I spend four years majoring in art? Now what? Why did I make so many paintings? I just have to haul them around with me now. I got rejected from two shows in a row, and I shouldn't be disheartened, but I was saving paintings to build my resume with. Now I wonder if I should have just sold them last December when I had some offers.

Somehow, I need to befriend my art-self again. I need to reacquaint myself with the person who is excited about making art, because I miss it. I'm going to start carrying my sketchbook around. It's the first step in opening the door to making art again.