I Yearn for Coffee

I'm a yearner.  I always want something I don't have.  I yearn for coffee shops.  Everywhere.  Mmmmmm coffee.

I was thinking of coffee, no doubt, when I came across this map of Seattle in my fave vintage book, Great Cities of the World.  Not only am I fond of this city, I loved the color of the map.  Quickly, I needed some papers to fill up this board.  I wasn't in the mood to think and paint and wait, so I found papers that had already been painted.

 

Good combo of city and coffee colors, I thought.  And that blue!  Almost matches the color of the Caffe Nero cup that I brought come from London a while back.  Now what?  Words.  Words about coffee should be added.  And maybe some houses.

Words:

I once saw a photograph of an intersection in Seattle.  On each corner was a coffee shop.  This is my idea of heaven.  Imagine the smell!  Fragrant of memory and of promise.  A brew of stories.  Caffeine!

I actually saw the "photograph" on Google Maps.  How I love cruising through cities on google maps.  But now that the words are down, I'm not happy.  They should have been written in black.  So, I'll just have to write over them in black and see if I can deal with the result.

Now, I was supposed to stop and take more photos as the work progressed.  I must have been caught up in the moment and forgot.  So this is how it looks.

 I'm not quite sure what the red "lady" figures mean.  I think the blue one must be me.  I carry around my house in my soul, but I'm always wanting to move on.  Yearning for that place with coffee shops.  Perhaps I'm that red bird flying off.  And that "you are here" target -- that's just where I want to be right now.  With a steaming cup of coffee in front of me.

STILL in the Experimental Phase

This must be my longest phase ever.  The Experimental Phase.

Both of these unnamed pieces are 6 x 6".  They've been hanging around for a week or so.  I have two other new ones to post soon.

Yesterday was the do it now experiment.  Minimal thinking allowed.  I got a lot done.  It was fun.  I'm doing it again today.  I find I'm more productive when I stop agonizing over each mark.  I'm afraid to go into the studio and look at the results this morning.   I worry that I will melt into a puddle of embarrassment when I see what I have done.

If I never return, I've melted.

The $100 Pen

Pretty pricey, huh?

Actually, individually, these cost just a little over $3.00.  Plus shipping, of course.  But there's just something about me and the way I do things, that made these innocent little pens cost over $100.

I won't make a tiresome list of all of the pens I have purchased.  The vast majority of these have been tossed.  I do not need reminders of my inability to make wise choices.  I will bring up the $60+ Rapidograph pen set I purchased and immediately regretted because I would like to get rid of it.  If somebody wants to pay me $35 (including shipping) for the set, I'll send it out immediately.  Perhaps I just don't know how to use these pens.  I don't care.  I'm tired of sending out a torrent of wrath each time I walk past them.

The studio garbage can is heavy with the bodies of worthless pens.   I feel like a mafia don.  If I'm displeased once, that's it.  Into the river.  No second chances.

I can write my little brains out with these pens on just about any surface.  After just a few minutes of drying time, I can rub glue all over this paint with so smearing whatsoever. 

Sounds pretty insignificant, right?  There are people who have found their perfect life partner in far less time.  The twinkling of the presidency in Obama's eye to the recent mid-year election is nothing time-wise compared to the time I have spent looking for this damn white pen.  I'm pleased, and I want you all to be pleased with me.

Now, if the DecoColor people would just come out with an extra, extra fine line pen, I would be even happier.