I get all restless, and I can't decide what to do with myself, and then I decide that the best way to expend the extra energy is by making something. Because, for some reason, having a physical product seems to be a very satisfying type of work.
A couple of days ago, I spat this landscape out. It doesn't matter that it's not especially good, it's just fun to make.
I must say, oil paints are very pleasant to work with. Hopelessly messy and impossible to keep off of your clothes (don't tell my mother, though... I'll never be allowed to paint at the dining room table again), and the table, and the tablecloth... But it's worth the danger. I love smushing the colours together--it's just...nice.
Today, I had another attack, and I made this:
Fun, no? I think so. Now I just have to wait for them to dry. For like three weeks. Probably the biggest downside to oils, but I guess the pleasure of working with them is enough to counteract the wait time.
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