Progress? What Progress?

No, this is not going to be a rant about the current state of our nation, it's about me - because sometimes it just has to be all about me.

I had a messenger window pop-up recently from a firl I haven't talked to in ages, and she asked how my birds turned out. You know, the ones I was working on last summer. Yeah, seven months ago.

Were I Lucille Ball, I would have lied and then gotten myself into the kind of situation where I either did not sleep for three days or decoupaged feather boas to a canvas and prayed she wouldn't remember what they looked like when it was time for the 'reveal.'

Unfortunately, the fact is I have barely touched them since Labor Day. It has been so long that I can no longer classify them as Works-in-Progress and they are unabashedly, shamefully Un-Finished-Objects. Apparently my laundry room, with it's two-bar fluorescent light and slit window that looks out on the dead leaves under my porch is not the most inspiring place.

So here they are, in all their unfinished glory:

I did manage to finish the small blue toucan,

But the Hyacinth Macaw has become 'the-piece-that-shall-not-be-named.' Really, gloriously bad. With the Hyacinth I tried to paint right out of the tube. I failed. Apparently, I only understand colour if it comes up in pale, pale layers on top of a black and white base.

So who wants to light the fire under my ass that gets me back to these?



PS . . In my own meager defence (yes, I know the old chestnut about the mental acuity of those who are their own lawyers) I have been ridiculously inspired by rachel gurney to attempt collageing again (and failing!) and I've been playing with icing techniques, which may well be worth sharing one day soon.