Today I have a confession to make. I am a sold-out, over-the-top nutcase, and I blame it all on art.
I should have known better than to edit images after 6 p.m. Like caffeine, the thrill of seeing a project come together tends to rev my engine and sends jolts of creativity roaring through my brain folds. I love the whole process a little too much, perhaps, and once that engine's rolling along, there's no turning off the brain switch.
So I fell into a deep sleep around 11:30, and dove immediately into the zaniest dream about beautiful textured backgrounds and wind-tossed fields of grass. For the next four hours, billowy sheets of pastel swirls were blowing and twirling just beyond my reach. After a long chase on a winding path through the forest, I wrestled a pile of them into submission, and with great delight, dropped them into my Spring Hues file, which was filed away in an oversized Mac that I was towing behind me on the trail.
When my eyelids flew open at 3:30 this morning, I knew the night was technically over for me, and a couple of earnest pillow-flips later (don't pretend that you never flip your pillow so the cool side's up), I officially gave up the fight.
Tuesday had arrived, and the coffeepot was calling my name. I'll feel the lack of sleep this afternoon, no doubt, but sometimes you just gotta roll with it. American Rennaissance sculptor Augustus Saint-Gaudens got it right: "What garlic is to salad, insanity is to art."
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.
