I can't help it. I wake up thinking about art-making. I fall asleep thinking about it, too. There's a stack of art books on my nightstand begging to be read (will I ever catch up?).
I own a LOT of art materials. If they ever made a spin-off of the TV show "Hoarders" called "Art Supply Hoarders," I think I'd make the top-ten list. ("Hey, she's got pastels, and gouache and watercolor and oil paint and acrylic stuff! And encaustic supplies! Did I tell you about her stack of canvas?" I can envision the production assistants penciling in notes while they try to assess where the nearest hotel is out here in the boonies where I live.)
I never see the news (it's always the same anyway), but the Weather Channel is my dearest friend because
- I want to know if it will be sunny enough to photograph my work, and
- Can I get those paintings in the car before the rain comes?
It's 7:20 AM. The sun is up (!). North light beckons, and there's a table full of art-making stuff right behind me whispering my name. The obsession continues.