I'm playing in layers.
With fingers, sponges, items I find around the house.
Sometimes my daughter gets in on the action. We listen to music. We dance around as we add paint wherever we feel like it.
Shapes and patterns and mish-mash.
Then I spend some time looking at the chaos to see what appears.
I found this woman on a swing hanging out on the canvas.
It's the last thing I would have thought to paint if I had planned it.
I love this process. Love it. Love it. Everyday I'm so excited to get home and play. Like a wee little kid!
It's indescribably fun and freeing.
No pressure. No dreaded critique. Have I mentioned that I will never again participate in anything where "critique" is a part of the process? I've had enough of that in my life, mostly from me. It's the best thing I can think of to kill the creative process. It's why I've waited so many years to pick up a brush again.
But I'm so glad I did.