Making art, each day, for 100 days straight. I will grab random bit and bobs of art making material to inflict pain onto my sketch book (it likes it). My sister challenged me, she is a crazy awesome artist. So she says ‘I have to do 100 days of art work’, 100 days in a row. I do a lot of doodles on post-it-notes so I will be upping my game and working in a new sketchbook.
For my 100 days I’m going to work on a sketch book like when I was young in an attempt to capture a new type of angst (middle age angst), rage, and and a needing to prove something. I wonder if I can catch that feeling again? I wonder if I can even remember it for a comparison (head scratch). So I grabbed a graphing notebook that will not appreciate the use of watercolors, paint and tremendous love I will pour into it. Today was a-lot of pink love, with a tiny sharpie fail, hoorays for old felt tips.