Today Was For Painting

I woke up this morning knowing today was art therapy, and I was ready. In preparation, I read "Picture This: The Near-Sighted Monkey Book" by Lynda Barry, who happens to be my very favorite author/illustrator and PLEASE check her out. This book is about drawing, what it means, some techniques, but mostly about how it can change you. I was totally amped up to ART!
Early in the day we went to one of those paint your own pottery places. I started work on something very awesome, but I won't go in to what it is, because I may give it as a present! I just kept telling myself to choose colors that I liked rather than the colors I was "supposed" to choose, to go slowly, to feel the brush in my hand, and to just keep painting no matter what. I know this sounds pretty cheesed out, but it made the whole thing into a very enjoyable experience.
Later there was open studio in the art therapy room. The art therapy room is very small and messy, but it has about everything you could want, plus the art therapist is totally willing to buy anything they don't have. What I chose to use was ink with a chinese brush. Lynda Barry is very deep into this technique, so I was mega psyched that I got to try it out. I did a few pages of just splotches and lines, and then I got the idea to make a splotch, then find a creature in it and use white ink over top to do details. I made eleven of them, and then I wrote a small story about each one. I'm pretty much totally grooving on the results. I'll show youz as soon as I get a scanner up in this bitch. That could potentially take forever, by the way.
So, still hate it here. A kid was screaming racial slurs at another patient, and it was just so foul. Then he came up to me and was like "Do you hate me? I'm sorry to offend you, I want you to be my friend." Like, no. No I am not going to be your friend, you were just screaming about kikes burning is Auschwitz a few minutes ago. I honestly feel that shit like this violates my rights as an individual. I should not have to hear that crap, right? Right.
So, basically, in conclusion, I love doing art and reading Lynda Barry; I hate crazy people, screaming, and racism. The end.