From Lines come Lines

So I'm lying already. The Oneadaymotivationaldrawings are not done every day. But often enough that they are a sort of tiny discipline and practice. We can almost all of us use a little more practice. And because the only rules are: Draw the Title - put the date - the paper is free to accept anything that comes its way.

I try not to whine. I try to find some words or actions that another shares. Monday daughter Tara shared her lovely markers and I proceeded drawing My Bright Orange Bedroom Wall Looking East. The mirrored wall was on the west side of the bedroom. On sunny mornings it was a seriously bright room. I was seventeen. This color kept me sane. I sat at the desk and drew horses and my left hand - badly and not so badly. Beam forward lots and lots of years.



My bedroom is no longer orange but I'm still drawing. Instead of hands and horses it's bears and cats and now the occasional porker (in honor of those awesome art-filled years at UW-River Falls). From one goofing-off-at-the-antique-shop-while-making-model-horse-bridles drawing has come thousands of images and, more amazingly, thousands of customers. A whole different different life. (Yes, a couple differents in honor of those other real life lives I've lived.) Ya yust neffer know - as we'd say Up North...

Lines come from the lines. A recent display at our local bank shows a tiny part of what we sell. The original drawings morph into reproductions, magnets, greeting cards, tees, and bookmarks. I feel guilty because the promised sculptures and jewelry aren't out there yet. What's a hobby? I ain't complaining (at the moment anyway). It's a weird life, but a good life.

Time to quit typing, water the African violets, and get on to the day. The Chickadee Boutique in Shoreview, MN is opening soon and this weekend holds the second Spirit of the St. Croix Art Festival in Hudson, WI. Rain is forecast. We shall see. On to the Grand Adventure.

Fare-thee-well,
Sue