they had a great sale at Aaron Bros so i bought the 30"x 48" canvas for about 35 bucks.
this was a good sign.
moved to my hometown 10 days ago. what can i say ? it's been 'good' and 'bad'. as if that even comes into it. however my childhood self was knee jerking and rubbing her eyes and waking at 4 am every morning with the Armageddon is Near sinking feeling. and saying what ELSE is for Xmas.
and everyone i knew was out of town yesterday. so no posse. which required that i pull on my big girl panties and muddle thru it. as i drove thru town loaded to the gills with paints and stuff, i thought how every single person that i would meet that day was also frightened out of their wits. i still was breathing hard as i looked for parking.
by the time i unloaded my crap i saw what a load of crap was my fear of rejection and accepted that i was rejected. honesty is the best policy i've heard. and that's the honest fact. set up my crap under the shade of a tree.
a bunch of homeless kids with dogs and dirty clothes were hanging around the plaza, and i felt compassion for their anxiety ridden faces. there was one young man in particular who's face had a level of despair that it gave me pain. wondered what it was to be so lost at such a young age. i considered giving him money- but then saw him light up a smoke. judgment flared up in my heart and i thought if he could afford cigs then why should i waste my money. realized immediately my judgmental attitude was bullshit and that i was judging his state of being worthy of my money and his need to smoke. drop that attitude right now, miss hot pants. i continued to feel pain over the kid and his facial expression, and deliberated all during the day of whether i should offer the little money i had in my pocket.
started painting. it went. lots of people would stop by, and chat, or take pics, or ask what i was painting. got to talk quite a bit. about what i feel is happening to our world, and just the normal bullshit of the day. one young man with electric blue eyes, stopped at the edge of the crowd, and asked if it was oils that i was using- i said yes- and he said, it's sick... i think that was the best comment of the day.
because i was interrupted many times in my painting it got a bit difficult to stay on track of what the painting's story was. i was listening to the passerby's stories, and was feeling confused and blind as i looked upon the canvas.
had quite an interesting convo with Elvis Presley, and we talked extensively of government politics, taxes, fires, chem trails, and what's really going on around us... and also art. he kept calling me little sister or girl, which i dug. i would love to talk to that guy again.
during the last hour a very thin older long haired hippy was yakking it up non stop while i was having discussions with others, and then commenting how they were interrupting him, as he needed to talk to me about my art and what he thinks i should do with it. he actually almost started a fight with Elvis, and with Edward the Artist, but was dragged off by Katya's companions to give me the respite i needed. he returned a half hour later to ask me out and say he would love to bake a cake for me, and told me where he lives, but said call first. i realized then that i would need to leave to throw up the white flag of surrender.
then there was young Katya. beautiful. weeping. a writer. expressing of her womanhood and her self. spoke of how she saw my art and heard my words. at age 25 was in a place of extreme self awareness and a spiritual state of high vibration, at the same time very young and learning about how the world really is. i was mesmerized.
brought me back to what i was painting for, in the plaza, in public, in SLO town my hometown, to which the craziness of life brought me back to.