Since I had painted the tree trunks and branches with a mix of three colors, why not do the same with the foliage, I thought? So, I mixed a nice lime (yay! my fave) and used Hooker’s Green and Chromium Green straight out of the tube for the other tube. Then I was a bit perplexed. I practiced a bit on the palette with my super-favorite DaVinci bright 10. Hmmm, I really had no idea how to do this. I started anyway, what the hey?
I thought, Cloud-like, but that soon passed. I then thought, Van-Gogh. Initially, I was trying to keep to my, No rough surfaces, but that soon passed, in a big way. There is a ton of texture to the foliage in this piece.
I added a lot of depth as I worked, with the Hooker’s Green, and that helped me get through the stretch of greens. I completely ignored my initial sketch lines, except for the lower ones meeting the sky, and the ones meeting the trees. I kept the ones for the branches almost too literally but I want to see them reaching, dancing.
When I was done, I started adding more depth and you know? It was just soooo dark. Bah. I started adding some light and gosh darnit if it didn’t turn weeping willow. Hah. These are oaks. Were oaks. Now they are Magic Trees, okay? Right-o! I really like them this way. Then I added more severe depth with the darkest green.
Okay. So I had a severe panic attack on Monday night, starting about five pm. Just could not calm down about the surgery, mostly the recuperation part. See, I’m okay with the surgeon, the surgery, the hospital stay — it’s the incapacitation, not being able to DO stuff for — how long? The unknown, the helplessness. That’s just not a good combo for someone with PTSD.
I noticed over the weekend that I was having digestive symptoms. I would open my mouth and this wierd gurgling, kind of funny, sound, odd for me, would come out. Monday it was nervous nausea and I had no appetite. Bah.
Then I got the most awesome news in the art world for me in like — 10 years — I kid you not. At like four pm — via email. I can’t even tell you yet. But if it happens, it’s Huge, Tiny E.
So. I was like, I won’t be able to act on this, like tell people about it, like post links and stuff. Like, that’s really really silly of me. But it triggered a nervous response. Silly as the dickens.
Then the anesthesiology nurse called, to go over all my meds, which is kind of a reality check? Like this is happening? And I have like (Like? am I a valley girl?) (sigh) 13 meds that I take, and I feel somewhat embarrassed about that and it’s way serious and I went to computer to pull up the list because Buddha help me I can’t remember them all with the doses, etc.
So after all of that, I rested and my breath shortened and my head was going from side to side on the pillow — and I just could NOT calm down. I emailed my counselor — Jason called just then and there was nothing to do but for him to come home on schedule.
I did yoga and at the end, as I always do, child’s pose helped lengthen my breath eventually. Thank Buddha.
I could barely get dinner down, bite by painful bite, but I did.
The next day I went to the psychiatrist’s office on a quickly scheduled appointment and saw an assistant who could prescribe — who was fun and delightful, a woman who I had never met before. She was awesome, and instead of Xanax, which my surgeon and counselor had suggested in overnight emails, she decided to ever so slightly raise my Abilify level. Oh!
Since then, whoa! Night and day! I am unable to fixate or obsess. How cool is that? I am quite up, chill and in great spirits. Blessed be.
This is supposed to be for fourteen days. I see my regular psychiatrist on my regular appointment tomorrow. I may suggest we try this for two months. It’s so nice not to be on the edge of crying all the time, I tell you. Wow.
Now we had tried going up before by a certain amount more, and I was severely shaking, but this is half of that amount. So if I don’t shake, I’m cool with this. Hmm. ?
Have been reading Sherwood Anderson’s poems and am almost done. I was explaining and trying to recommend him to a friend the other day, and I do recommend him. He is so worth reading, not like Neruda, though, or Whitman, you know. Just kind of like, as an experience, as an American perspective. He is sad, and dark. But I like him. He is futuristic, he talks to us in the future from the 1917 era, and it’s freaking EERIE in the best sort of way. That is why. It’s surreal and very cool.
He talks about walking in the steam clouds on the sidewalks of Chicago as if they are thought clouds, dreams sort of, walking in the thoughts and dreams of other people. Lord I wish I had thought of that. He talks about walking stealthily in the steps of truth but not, so the truth doesn’t find him out, else the truth will find him out and disappear, dissolve. Oh yeah. Shivers. He predicts. He’s right there, right here. Poor guy. Must have been lonely as hell. I want to reach out to him in his time and give him a good shake, a big hug.
Next is Seamus Heaney, which I’m just dying for. But I MUST finish Sherwood.
He deserves it.
It just amazes me that these poems live so vividly on the page, in the mind as you read them, and he is long gone. He knows that as he is writing and he tells us so. But the Latin American anthology was the same way. It makes me want to create in the best way. 🙂 I hope it does you, too, whatever your medium is, or simply to live your life to the fullest, every moment …