Thinking.... (I know. I know.)

Been doing a lot of thinking. One can do that, with freezing feet and chocolate stuck in their teeth..

It was an interesting year, but it wasn't what I planned to achieve. I wanted to see both my picture-books and at least one novel published, and be rich from the cards. It didn't work like that - not because everyone says the first year of doing business on your own is always absurdly difficult - but because too many commissions cut in, exhibitions and ideas and because I've realized my former technique and skill just won't do.

Porky died and as much as my passion for photography continues to burn, I have a whole new concept brewing in my head, one that requires a far better camera and a whole new approach. Different genre all together.

The book I have, half done, don't feel good enough yet, so I will stop pushing for their publication and just work like a professional, not an unreliable, irrational artist - take a step, do the art slowly, skillfully, exhale. And again... Don't be afraid to think outside the box.

My ambitions, my wish list changes with my knowledge. The age when this little chubby back-packer hitchhiked Europe and raided museums with a tiny little camera, is over. Next age will be that of a creadit card, driving Pathfinder and photographing another face of Europe with a Mark III. As watercolors replaced the drawing pencils, they, too, now face an upgrade. I know today that watercolored stuff can be photoshopped - something that never occurred to me before. Better yet, it can be merged, met half-way.  Several techniques. Better STILL, it can DEVIATE. And that is almost a whole key to the garden gate. One thing, though. I cannot strive to achieve flawless technique and then be done with it and get to work. It's not kung fu. Style always changes; details always take the reins and speed off to another direction. I have to let art breathe. I have to love the fact I will always learn something new every day. Choosing the life of an author is a curious path to take. Some moments it seems awful and bitterly hard and choking the love I have for people who believe in me when I fail to believe in myself.. Sometimes it's just mundane, boring, uninspired and I do other stuff, though very few of the things I used to do as a kid. This is a strange turn of events for me... Some things have withered and it feels that for the tiny little statues I put in the grass as a child have been replaced by towers. I gathered emotions, info, knowledge, approaches, perceptions, responses, casting the inspirational nets for 30 years.

Now is time to reap the whirlwind.