Another craft project from Cloudsofcolour: DIY Doodle-stones. Go for a walk, pick up some stones, wash, and decorate with waterproof ink. Nice as decorations or small personal gifts. And it’s great fun to look at a stone, and try to see who’s hiding in it.
Amateurs worry about equipment,
professionals worry about money,
masters worry about light,
I just take pictures…
– Vernon Trent
In a recent blog post an art student was sneering at mediocre watercolours and flower close-ups posted by amateur “photographers” (sic!). I’m guilty of both, and particularly felt the gratuitous insult of the inverted commas.
Like most amateurs I don’t think highly of my efforts, and am often awed when I see someone else’s. But I am – even childishly – pleased when I succeed in capturing, if only partially, something I see in nature or my mind’s eye. I enjoy sharing that vision.
I also love looking at other people’s efforts. Often I can sense the energy and joy in some quite inexpert ones, or feel pleasure at someone else’s success, sometimes with a twinge of “Ooh, I wish I could do that!” And I believe that anything consciously produced as “Art with a capital A”, or in an effort to showcase one’s talent, creativity or skill, will be strained and somehow lacking.
So I will continue to enjoy creating and sharing mediocre watercolours, snaps of pretty flowers and little stories.
One of the zentangle habits is to name the patterns one puts in a doodle. The one I personally call “Crazy” (like crazy paving) is good for covering up pattern ideas that didn’t work out. Can you spot it?
If at least people asked directly it would be a clean death. These oblique questions were torture. He’d tried evasion. “I work for the government.” It didn’t help, just drew the painful process out.
Unfortunately, he was a bad liar: he’d stammer or choke. He blushed to recall the amazed and unbelieving looks. “I work for a business consultancy”, whatever that meant. Once, in a panic, “I’m a funeral director.” Well, everything was better than the truth.
That’s what he would do. Gerald heaved a sigh of relief.
The decision had been driving him crazy. He hadn’t been able to sleep for almost a fortnight. There were so many factors to consider. So many things that could go wrong. But now all that was over. He’d made the decision, and all would be well. It was a great weight off his mind.
He turned over in bed: now for a good night’s sleep. He closed his eyes, ready to drift into oblivion. It was several minutes before he heard the niggling voice.