Oh, the shame!

Over a year without posting, how bad is that? And I've had it on my to-do list to come back and post something for months now. I just keep ignoring it. (It's a shame I didn't at least paint something to make it worth the wait!)

Creativity-wise I'm not sure there's much to report. I've painted a few cards, had a couple sewing projects come out so far from what I wanted that they've been languishing for months, finished knitting a top sometime in the spring or early summer, and finished knitting another top in the summer and decided it was never going to work, so now it's a question of whether I frog it and re-use the yarn, or just give it away. I'm currently in the black hole of stockinette known as the Boxy Sweater. And I cleverly decided that I wanted to make it 9 inches longer than the pattern calls for, so there's no end in sight.

18 inches in, so many more to go...
I genuinely debated whether I might not prefer to stick in an elastic waistband and call it a skirt. On the bright side, everything I've done so far has yet to use up the first two skeins, so I might have enough leftover to knit a matching skirt when I finally finish this top. (As if I'll have any endurance left at that point.) It's still a gorgeous yarn, though, and I'm very happy with the color!

Anything else creative in my life is nothing more than grandiose plans. Fancy journals with custom papers, capsule wardrobe sewing projects with luxury fabrics, giant acrylic pour canvases, new curtains (I write 'new' as if I have curtains; I don't, I have plastic mini-blinds), new bed dressing, new home decor layouts, even new website templates (again, I say 'new' but all I have is the blank-est of default templates). All expensive. and/or time consuming.

One of the art vloggers I watch occasionally has been discussing the placement of focal points in paintings, which has almost inspired me enough to try starting a new one, but no action has taken place so far.

A Daring Rescue

In the meantime I'll leave you with a very old, incomplete painting (with – as it turns out – very poorly placed focal points). Sorry if it's excessively violent, but sitting for hours in an airport waiting for a flight and listening to Muse on repeat has that effect on me. It's old enough that I'm not keen on the line work (the hands are particularly bad), but it exists, and that's more than can be said for any artwork I've imagined lately.

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