The male goldfinches appear to be molting, or else I have been beset by the rare Mottled Calico Finch. Rather more surely than the leaves (mostly still green) in this climate, it would seem that this indicates the end of summer.
This has been a fabulous summer. I’ve done nothing but work, but I’ve made a LOT of art, and (for me) a lot of money from the art. Slowly came to the realization that my ultimate goals of doing high-end commissions for big companies were not something that would make me all that happy–I like doing my own stuff too much. Now my ultimate goal is to do my own stuff, get paid, and take the occasional commission for more money and exposure.
Better to learn these things now.
I also think that a lot of the reason I’ve been very happy this summer is because I’ve been frustrated artistically.
What the hell, you say? You’re doing your own stuff, and you’re frustrated?
Indeed! At least, I am frustrated by real media. Digital stuff–well, call me an arrogant sod if you wish, but I’m pretty good digitally. I have problems with composition and anatomy and whatnot, my drawing skills are adequate, but I’m no da Vinci, but the media itself gives me no problems, hasn’t for awhile now. Any given thing I’m likely to paint, I know how to go about painting it digitally.
Which is both great and boring as hell.
But real media…phew. I am still mucking my way through understanding watercolor, and trying to work out the sort of idea combination of mixed media to make me happy, and how to get the effects that I need to get. So any painting more complex than, say, a doodle of a mouse in a poncho, is still a how-the-heck-do-I-do-this experience. And while I worry a bit–my paintings are flat out not as good as my best digital work yet–I still don’t get bored. (And it pays better, of course.)
And hell, by the time I am a great master of watercolor and acrylics, I’ll have my own house and I’ll buy a set of oil paints and put myself back to square one with a glad heart.