My chickens are sick. They caught the plague from the corn-pilfering pigeons and I am tending their bedsides in the morning and evening, dabbing iodine on their swollen little faces and hoping they don't die. I've got Schrödinger's coop in my yard, and I brace myself every time I open the nesting box. There isn't much to do about an avian virus except wait it out. I am really bummed about it.
Friday was my last night alone for a long time, so I changed the chickens' food and water, poured out one nice dark beer for dinner, and went down to the studio. I discovered where the paint-licking cockroaches were hiding; in the hollowed-out carcass of my ginger knob. They scattered when I shook it. I painted it anyway.
more wiggly shadows!
I didn't pre-mix color strings for this one, I just worked straight from the mess on my palette (which is still a plastic lunchmeat lid covered in tin foil). It's getting easier - I got this one done in 2 hours, and had time to watch Netflix and knit my Seattle sweater before bed. I really dig having a few nights to myself.
Might try a self-portrait next, if I get the kids to bed on time one of these nights.
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