Oh, a silly Trump face. Isn’t he pretty?
A quick study of Humeur Nocturne by William-Adolphe Bouguereau
Her face is muddled, but I think it still counts toward one of my 29 for this month.
I’ve decided to attempt 1,000 faces again this year, as it was such a resounding success last year! We shall see how it goes.
I’ve also had a growing inclination to pursue a bachelor’s degree, and I’m thinking I might like to pursue it in fine art – painting or drawing or both.
A Valentine’s moose, drawn but not delivered.
Oh well, such is life.
A dramatic little snippet about it:
A small series of hurts, collected like drops in a red mug, slid down from the shadowy side of the mind. One, then another, assuaged and comforted, hidden behind a brave face and quelled by a shy tingling and roaring excitement.
A night, dark and starry with a gaping, wide sky, brought a hurt, larger and more fluid than the rest, akin to them all. There is a consolation, albeit small, in knowing it will be the last hurt.
If I’ve been told the truth, as I suspect I have, it is for the best.
I am crestfallen, but resilient. It stings, but that will fade.
This blog is a lovely stage for my theatrics. My theatrics are fabulous exercise for my creativity.
To end on a positive note: I had a valiant go at NaNoWriMo in 2014 and popped out a novella. I’ve finally opened it up again to edit, revise, send out some copies to be looked over by friends, then, finally, I will attempt to have it published. I will say, it was written in a rush, and I was expecting it to be pretty rough, but the first paragraphs have surprised me. Maybe I won’t need to spend months editing it as I originally thought.