Early Morning Talent

On non-Laundry Night insomnia days, like tonight, I spend at my desk, either surfing to web, or more productively, painting. So far, I've found that I'm far better at painting during these hours. I've completed three pretty good works in these silent, unhealthy-to-be-awake hours, and I feel great and accomplished. There's something satisfying about a sleeping roommate, a warm room, a mess of paint and paint-stained tissues and papers and paintbrushes creating a nest of work. I bend my lamp until it seems to kow-tow the desk, and I pull out the tray under the desk, and I squeeze my pigments, wet my brushes and I paint. I paint and look and paint and listen to Pandora, and paint. When the clock reads 5:00 Am, I leave my nest the way it is, and I turn off my computer, turn off the lamp, and clamber into bed. In the light of day, I take a look at how well my paintings turn out, and I survey the mess with halfhearted OCD and a small weed of pride. I caused this, and from this came something of merit. I'm carefully proud of my work. I smile, I gloat, and then I chastise myself. I point out the flaws, and the erroneous brushstrokes. And still I am proud. I look at Deviantart, I look at Wiki pages. Show myself the painters and works I can never rival, and I still have this iggling of pride.

I really shouldn't be doing this. I have a midterm next week, a 5-7 page paper due, an essay to rewrite, a Chinese grade to salvage (not to mention a test on Friday), a dense excerpt to read, and so many things still to get in order, and they can all be accomplished in these dormant hours, and yet I choose to paint.

Because. Because in painting I don't think of my responsibilities and mountains of tasks. I'm in my bubble of colors and tints and hues and tones. Of songs that fade to background noise, and water that might as well be alchemical in changing colors. I shut out everything that's not a color mixer, a tube of paint, tracing paper, canvas, and reference photo printouts. I study intricate intricacies on how paint leaves its trace. I study how to achieve realism, how to paint highlights. I can paint over mistakes and wash out smears. Because it's the easy way out.

Oh, I don't know. This is part stream-of-consciousness, part emerging from the bubble and getting ready for bed. This is painting.