A-mus-ing

It seems hard to believe that my time here is almost over. I have been here for twenty-six days, as a 'full-time' artist. Here is what I think I have learned.

The place does not affect my art-making. I will either make it or not, regardless of where I am. When packing/planning to come, I had these lofty goals of having this rigorous schedule when I got here-- up at 7, making drawings in the morning (to warm me up), shooting/scanning/editing/printing all day with a break for sushi lunches, then an evening of reading art theory books and planning more projects. What I was (not) surprised to find, was I didn't want to make drawings at 7, I did not want to shoot all day (I worked on different projects depending on my mood), and I did not want to stop in the evenings and then read some heavy theory. I only had sushi lunch once-- most days I forgot to eat lunch. I did a morning ritual-- not drawings, but emails and blogs. That morning ritual took more time than the Internet should, but then again, a drawing would have probably taken longer. Then I would work on whatever project until I was too exhausted to go on--usually eight or nine more hours. Then I would either want to watch t.v. (mindless), or I would start something else (mindless but productive) and would do that for another five hours. Suddenly in the whee hours of the morning, I would be shocked and realize my morning ritual the following day was even farther from my 7AM goal. On the other hand, did I get any less done than I could have hoped or imagined? No, I did a lot. Maybe I could have done more if I was a different person. But I am me, and I credit myself for having such a broad range of skills and interests as to hold my own attention, if not a sleep schedule.

It is a shame I dragged along so many books.

Last night, I went shopping for some supplies. When I got home, I set the large bag down to go make dinner (yeah, at 10 PM). Torah kept messing with the bag. Eventually I emptied the bag, but left it for him to play with. I was working on the computer when there was a sudden white hurricane through the room, the size of a German Shepard, sounding surprisingly plastic. Within milliseconds, the hurricane came back through the room, in colors similar to Torah. I went to investigate. I found him, bigger and fluffier than I had ever seen, and no amount of comforting would lay down the hackles of his back. I carried him to find the bag, to show him it was okay. In the bathroom, I found Dharma sitting on the toilet tank, the handle of the bag around her body. She looked shocked, but not as much as he did. I took the bag off her, noticing a large hole in the bottom. I can only guess what happened-- and my guess is also far-fetched. Did Torah climb into the bag, then Dharma went to look, got stuck in the handle and ran, dragging him through the apartment? I don't know. But it was hilarious.