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Confessions of an Artist at War
It's a War In Here
I have a confession to make. I recently lost my cool, even though I've done a great job keeping it most days by practicing radical acceptance.
Here's the deal: I recently sketched a decent piece of work, started peeling the tape off the paper, and ruined the work.
Then, I smashed a hair dryer into oblivion. Really.
Even though I don't get upset much, I lost it in utter frustration. I took my anger out on an innocent bystander, the old hair dryer I jacked from my wife.
You see, I'm an artist. I have a small studio jammed into the corner of my tiny office in the front of our small home.
I needed a hair dryer to dry watercolor and acrylic paintings. It's a weapon against time, and I'm impatient.
Art requires patience. But I just told you I'm impatient.
Welcome to the war of art.
I smashed the freaking hair dryer into it’s next life. Now, it’s in the garbage can. I felt a tinge of guilt. But I shook it off on the way back to the war room, my tiny office, and my art studio.
Why did I get upset and smash a hair dryer when I usually don't?
I met resistance, and it punched me in the face.
