Spin, grin. Sip, gin. Nip. The words you can scramble out of the six
alphabets of Spring seem to fit the season so perfectly.
I stare at this new blue sky and smile and take in a deep breath. Everything is birthing. Things are coming out of burrows, tearing out of buds. If I didn't hate ostentatious little phrases, I might've said they were leaving winter's womb. I've just said it though haven't I? Strange how you have to say something in order to say that you won't say it. Suddenly it exists simply because you thought it should not, and in thinking so, brought it into existence.
Sorry, the season does go to the head a little. The air smells raw, like new leaves.
I felt like drawing. This feeling always comes in spurts, and I go hunting for paper and paint. Drawing, like photography, helps my writing; even if it's only by letting me procrastinate better. It fills the space in between writing and not-writing. It takes me out of my comfort zone - I'm much less confident telling a story with a paintbrush than I am with a pen. Every time I draw, I'm like a child learning to walk, and that is liberating in many ways; I don't expect much from myself. There's nothing more beautiful than creating something without any purpose, without expectations.
I don't like the outlines on the finished leaves; I wish I'd left them blurred. But I can't change it now - I committed to the black ink as soon as I put it on paper. But I will, yet again, live and learn. And be reminded of how freeing writing is in that sense. You can rewrite a sentence till it's as sharp or as blurred as you want it to be.
We all tell stories in our own ways - we might paint them, write them, freeze them on photographs, tell them aloud in a room, sing them in the shower. If you had to choose one, which one would you choose?
Did I tell you I started working on my first novel? I'm two chapters in, into what looks like a five-year plan. Do give me a virtual kick on the backside now and then, remind me that it won't get written if I don't sit the hell down and write.
Love and springtime to you my friends,
Pia
I stare at this new blue sky and smile and take in a deep breath. Everything is birthing. Things are coming out of burrows, tearing out of buds. If I didn't hate ostentatious little phrases, I might've said they were leaving winter's womb. I've just said it though haven't I? Strange how you have to say something in order to say that you won't say it. Suddenly it exists simply because you thought it should not, and in thinking so, brought it into existence.
Sorry, the season does go to the head a little. The air smells raw, like new leaves.
I felt like drawing. This feeling always comes in spurts, and I go hunting for paper and paint. Drawing, like photography, helps my writing; even if it's only by letting me procrastinate better. It fills the space in between writing and not-writing. It takes me out of my comfort zone - I'm much less confident telling a story with a paintbrush than I am with a pen. Every time I draw, I'm like a child learning to walk, and that is liberating in many ways; I don't expect much from myself. There's nothing more beautiful than creating something without any purpose, without expectations.
I don't like the outlines on the finished leaves; I wish I'd left them blurred. But I can't change it now - I committed to the black ink as soon as I put it on paper. But I will, yet again, live and learn. And be reminded of how freeing writing is in that sense. You can rewrite a sentence till it's as sharp or as blurred as you want it to be.
We all tell stories in our own ways - we might paint them, write them, freeze them on photographs, tell them aloud in a room, sing them in the shower. If you had to choose one, which one would you choose?
Did I tell you I started working on my first novel? I'm two chapters in, into what looks like a five-year plan. Do give me a virtual kick on the backside now and then, remind me that it won't get written if I don't sit the hell down and write.
Love and springtime to you my friends,
Pia
I find it's the spirit of awakening that comes with spring, it just pushes you to try new things and be creative. I love it!
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely. Everything says 'create', doesn't it.
Delete"...spirit of awakening" - beautifully put.
Oh, I so agree with you. I love the picture without outlines. I work a lot on ppts and never use outlines. I personally like the way the object blends with the outside when not restricted by defined boundaries.
ReplyDeleteBut live to learn, unlearn and learn.. :)
And I cannot wait for your novel. Yippeee! Do drop us a note of where you progress with it.
Happy springing to you..
Many things might be better off 'when not restricted by defined boundaries'! Ah, the world might be better off :)
DeleteI'll keep you updated on where I get (or not!) with the novel - it could even help keep me on my toes! Happy springing to you too, Fiona :)
I like the black lines around the leaves. It connects the bird to the background. It is lovely.
ReplyDeleteThanks so much, Stephanie.
DeleteYou could be right - I probably liked the undefined leaves because the bird was still unpainted.
Glad you liked it :)
Happy Spring to you too :)
ReplyDeleteThere is something about spring! And I love the painting, the outlined version ..
And also good luck with the novel, will wait for it :)
ReplyDeleteThanks for the luck, Anandita - I need all the luck I can get my hands on! And for liking the finished painting :)
DeleteHappy spring to you too...yes, there's definitely something about it!
I like the black lines around the leaves too! Happy Spring Pia, and good luck with the novel - very exciting! :) x
ReplyDeleteThanks a ton, Emma :) A very happy spring to you too! xx
Delete"There's nothing more beautiful as creating something without a purpose, without expectations." Yes! But I bet your novel will be beautiful too. :)
ReplyDeleteThanks for the vote of confidence, Denise. It's much appreciated!
DeleteVow Pia, that's called multi talented, I love it both ways with the boundaries and without it, that is the advantage of being the genX you blend into all the extremes too... Well.. waiting for your Novel, I think I have told you this that your posts reminds of Jhumpa Lahiri's writings a lot and I wish and pray that your Novel turns out even better than hers.. and psst..sst.. secret.. I also have a novel in my head.. not knowing when and where I shall be starting.. but I shall one day... till then Take care and God Bless
ReplyDeleteThanks a ton for such kind words - I'll remember them as I write :) And how exciting that you have a book lurking around in your head - I hope it finds its way out on paper. All the best with it!
DeleteAs always, I love how you bring the scenes around you alive, through your words. You are well and truly talented, both in terms of words and painting.
ReplyDeleteGood luck with the novel! :)
I love the painting without the boundaries, too. :)
Thanks, lovely girl :) So touched. And I know the good-luck-wish will come in handy!
DeleteI hope you and Bubboo are well.
You are of course your own harshest critic! High bars..the painting is beautiful. Spring made an untimely appearance in our part of the world only to be rudely put in place by winter which isn't going anywhere...I don't mind it much though or I didn't until I saw your pictures and read your post!
ReplyDeleteOuch, those faux springs can be terrible. They have you packing off your hats and coats, only to have to dig them out again. You have my sympathies, Lakshmi! I've always felt March and April to be the months that drag the most.
DeleteHugs for thinking the painting beautiful though :)
You'll ace that novel. Let us know when it's in the shops; I'll buy copious copies for everyone I know. Happy spring! I'm glad you are feeling so productive. I'm forcing myself to write 3 pages a day of - well anything really. Long may your creative juices continue to flow - the world needs your talents. X
ReplyDeleteYou're the sweetest! And though I haven't written a single word in the last two weeks, I owe this note of yours a couple of hours of writing time at least! Hugs for the vote of confidence, K xx (BTW, at three pages a day, you're doing way better than I am!)
Delete