Not the Beach

Yesterday, I was going to paint a beach scene. For some reason, it wasn’t working out at all. It was just lines of color that wouldn’t form into anything recognizable, so I decided to paint over it with my palette knife. I actually like the result. It reminds me of fire.

It’s odd, but after I painted this, I had the strangest dream last night. I’m not going into any details, but in the dream I felt angry. It was a level of anger I have never felt before. I was angry in every fiber of my being and was ranting like a psycho. It wasn’t a crazy kind of thing. Someone did something really crappy, and I was appropriately angry for what happened. In my dream, I expressed every shred of anger I’ve ever felt in my life. I awoke feeling peaceful, like I rid my body of years of angst.

I’m starting to think art is as cathartic as I’ve heard. It makes me feel, and I don’t usually feel a wide range of emotions. I like it. I’m growing.

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