In My Wildest Dreams

by Lisa

I had a dream the other night that I had moved to a strange town, and I went out in my car to the store. The more turns I made the more lost I became. Suddenly, I realized I did not even know the name of the street where I was living, and panic set in. If freaking Freud were here he would tell you that Lisa is having a melt down over the drawing from hell–that the further it gets, the more difficult it becomes, and the more terrified she becomes of it.

There is a little puzzle going on with the drawing, that is the source of the difficulty, and why each leaf is important. Then, I am terrified that anything could happen to the actual drawing. A drawing by nature is a delicate little flower. Nobody is allowed in my studio anymore with drinks. In fact, if anyone comes in, they have to view it from a distance and hold their breath. Peach has even been banished–god forBID she should see a fly. Peach has a big aversion to flies. She looks like a dog ravaged by rabies when a fly comes near her. I saw her almost go through a plate glass window once. Can’t take the chance. I have even given up the chair you see in the last photo, as I swiveled it around dangerously close to the drawing, and the back of it nearly smudged the charcoal.

This one is going to kill me. I have now been to three doctors about my aching back,  have had an MRI, and x-rays, and go to physical therapy. I am loaded with vicodin and sleeping pills. Of course, all these smartass people keep telling me to stop drawing and see if the pain that radiates out my right shoulder blade and down the right side of my back goes away. Gee, you think? I CAN’T STOP YOU FOOLS!!!!! I HAVE TO FINISH THIS THING BEFORE I GO CRAZY!!!! JUST KEEP GIVING ME DRUGS AND MASSAGES WILL YA?

$100,000 it will be worth I tell you. And that’s just to pay the medical bills.

Advertisement
This entry was posted in Drawing, On Suffering. Bookmark the permalink.

10 Responses to In My Wildest Dreams

  1. Hi Lisa..
    A friend recently did a huge watercolor of his girlfriend and himself in a 50s cafe. It was lovely and anyone who knew either of them would immediately recognize them. Although I don’t imagine it took the gazillion of hours that your drawing has, his comment on it reminds me of your quandry…
    “Each time I was working on one section, all I could think of was if I screw this up, I’ll have to start the whole thing over again…”
    His painting was terrific and I have every confidence that yours will continue on the path to greatness. ….. NOW… WHERE is that oil-rich sheik that you have lined up to buy that puppy?????

  2. Melinda says:

    Oh, dear. I’m sending empathy your way.

    It is clear that you have become the drawing and the drawing is you. Of course you must protect it. It’s a wild and crazy jungle out there and ordering every leaf, controlling your space, finishing the work on your terms is vital to your peace!

    The good news: You will finish it…and, to your liking. Just keep the meds close and your favorite masseur handy and you’ll be fine.
    Best of luck–M

  3. Nava says:

    What is that saying’ about the first 80% of the work taking 20% of the time, and then the last 20% taking 80% of the time?

    I think you’re in the last 20% stage – where you have the fear of losing the 80% that you’ve already done.

    Been there, done that, and am there right now, with a watercolor paining on Yupo, a combination which is as fragile as a delicate crystal bowl that Peach has just spotted a fly sitting on its edge…

    And yes, you are right – WE HAVE TO FINISH IT!

    I’m just about to wash the background for the 4th time, and then I’ll let those nice people put me in that nice white straightjacket and take me in that car.

    Good luck! to us all!

  4. Nava says:

    Um, I meant “watercolor painting on Yupo”. But it’s become a paining, too. Freud rocks!.

  5. wrjones says:

    Did you say you have a doctor that will give you Vicodin for a bad drawing? Does he take Medicare?

  6. lbtowers says:

    It just dawned on me Bill. Every time I’ve been around you I notice I’m running low on vicodin.

    Good luck Nava. Keep all dogs away.

    Marian, indeed, calling all shieks…

  7. wrjones says:

    There may be a connection – I notice I always feel pain free and good around you and your purse.

  8. Rebecca says:

    I think the leaf a metaphor for something..your body? It’s postural leafy strength wanes in the autumn, to the wavering fragility of a loose petal on a flower..one that could be crushed by a fruit…a peach, perhaps.

  9. Rebecca says:

    PS. It’s a sign to focus on your health!

  10. Always nice to have someone around that is soooo generous with their meds! I have one too! Actually the chiropractor said the pain was because of what I do…painting….he adjusts my neck and I am good to go for another week or more…with a little help from my friends…:) The leafs are beautiful and the writing is always a hoot!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s