Born on a Thursday #2: Black Heart Valentine

Black Heart Valentine

I opened the bottle of India ink I bought over a year ago to make this Valentine. Originally I was going to make a collage with handmade paper, but I couldn’t find the paper, so instead I just painted.

black heart (c) 2013

The ink was smooth. I had fun pushing it around on the paper. It’s the first time in a long while that I actually just relaxed and enjoyed myself while playing with paint.

Since graduating from college, I’ve been trying to forget the anxiety I went through in painting class. I learned a lot, but I also got uptight. Whenever I paint, I’m concerned with brushstroke and painting-not-drawing. It’s like I’m stuck. Who cares how the image or the feeling arrives?

Tonight, Matagi said, “Maybe you don’t like painting – at least not the way you learned it.”


Something has shifted.

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I'm a rock-n-roller poet who left the Big Apple for the Big Sky Desert where I've been letting it be and grooving with universal love, singing to the gods, dancing with the muses and bicycling with dreamtime messengers. I like altering my reality through imagination, movement, breath, and makin' stuff.

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