I don’t know about you, but in order to sit down, be creative and get something accomplished, I need to have a few things in order.
Firstly, I can’t paint when the house is a mess, or there is laundry to be done. But with two small kids, this seriously limits my options. When is there NOT laundry, right? So my best bet is to get the washing and folding; decluttering and bed-making to an acceptable level of completeness and then worry about the rest later.
I have a full-time “real” job, so a lot of my painting is done late at night and under heavily caffeinated conditions. My poison? Dutch Bros. iced mocha. This is a required element.
Next, I need to get my supplies in order. Since I have a dedicated studio space, this doesn’t take too much extra time, but I do like things just so. I occasionally need to move a dozing cat off my chair or remove my kids’ never-ending art projects from my desk. My paints, brushes and water containter are arranged in a habit-formed triangular pattern to my right. It ain’t pretty, but it works.
A few months ago I woke up one morning after days of pretty hardcore painting to find that I couldn’t open my right hand. It hurt like a sonofagun and I ended up with my wrist in a cast for a week. I think I’m probably doomed to arthritis eventually, but in the meantime, I have started wearing fingerless gloves while I paint to keep my hands warm. I just bought some from this etsy shop and they are my favorite so far. They are so cute I wear them whenever possible.
Finally, just when I am about to sit down, I fire up ye olde iPod. I require something that I know all or most of the words to so I can really belt it out while I’m working. This is best done when there’s no one in close proximity. Those of you that have ever heard me sing know what I’m talking about. One of my favorite stories is when my son was about 3 and I was singing my guts out in the car. He was in the backseat and he just looked at me in the rearview mirror, shook his head and said, “Mommy, you can not be on American Idol!”
Today I was blaring the Glee soundtrack, which sent my poor husband running right out the door. That’s one way to get the house to myself.