The only thing I know is that I paint because I need to, and I paint whatever passes through my head without any other consideration. Frida Kahlo
That would just about sum it all up for me as well. Why am I obsessed with painting? That I do not know. I just know that if I don't, I feel as if the very air I breathe is being taken from my lungs. It is my essence, my core, the very soul of my being to be a painter. Until I realized and accepted that, I was very uncomfortable with myself. Creatives are quirky, difficult and at time maddening to those around them. For which I offer no excuses, nor an apology. For I must be who I have been created to be, if I deny my artistic bent I then divorce myself. I feel as if I must paint on a daily basis, almost just like needing to eat--I need to paint.
Hence the frustration that mounts if painting is not done, the sadness, the struggle.
I do take days off--at times I procrastinate. Chasing the muse is a very fickle relationship, delicate at best. Yet rewarding.
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