The Nine Ladies underpainting is complete, a day early.
The poetry slam at The Cubby Hole on Friday was a good night and I read two poems. There was a large mix of poetry read out and discovered that poems really come alive when performed. The event was held by a group of poets who publish poetry pamphlets as Supplement Publishing and I bought a copy of Wendy M. Mahoney's work which reminded me of my own.
Tuesday is the pick-up day for the latest and last exhibition at the Down To A Fine Art Gallery in Stretton. Sadly, they have announced the closure of the gallery, so this will be my last visit.
My main goal now is to paint, and my paintings continue to embarrass me with their lack of quality. I must paint something I'm proud of! It's hard to fit anything in besides painting when each picture takes many consecutive eight-hour days and I'm feeling guilty at my lack of socialability towards my friends. I wonder how many painters opt for acrylics or watercolours purely because of the sheer time commitment that oils can create? It makes me wonder if Raphael or Vermeer or Rembrandt had any social life at all.
