scrawls and sketches
some days, things go well: the sunshine is bright, the humidity is low, the children (not mine) are out at the land of make-believe, and i hear nothing but the trees and wind. the pen doesn’t stutter, the ink doesn’t vomit, the brushes gather to razor-sharp tips, and the paints land where they ought.
and then there are the other days. the kinds when your paper tears at the wrong places and not at the gum lines, when you drop your brush tip down on a freshly-mopped light-colored floor and find some staining phthalo or quinacridone spew rolling in a rather pretty dry-brush mark, and when the coffee spills across a clean sheet of properly stretched paper just because you happened to be a graceful toad.
and then there are days when nothing you put down comes out right, not the first time:
…and not the second time, a few months later:
…nor the third time, a day later:
…but perhaps there was some improvement on the fourth try:
so even on days when the cap of a paint tube refuses to turn and open, practice makes, if not perfect, then at least a very small step of improvement.