the_double_edged_sword_of_art jane when i'm at work, thousands of images fill my psyche. i convince myself that i am an unending well of artistic and poetic aura. that my colors radiate like sunshine through my veins. that i've somehow cracked open my ice shield. then i get home from work, and i'm so fatigued from looking at paper and numbers and words and names all day that i can't remember one thing. my mind's as blank as the canvas, and i can only hope the drought is temporary. 090325 ... unhinged too bad we can't find someone to pay us to be artists, like they did way back. give us a place to live, feed us, throw some money at us for the good stuff, patronized. in the best sense of the word. i seriously wish someone would pay me to practice. 090326 ... jane i was talking with a friend about this, and he mentioned that artists don't get paid to make art. they get paid to sell paintings. i'd never thought of it that way. 090326 ... unhinged we used to though. way back in another epoch of human history. 090326 ... unhinged (which goes back to my dream of buying a town and only letting my friends live in it. or maybe a castle, or farm ;-) ) 090326 ... j (myinboxmailspace) 090326 what's it to you? who go blather from