When painting,
Any kind of picture,
In my mind,
Like kneading clay,
Building blocks,
Moving people and models,
Arranging flowers,
I move the emerging shapes around,
Mixing paint in water like mixing colors,
Associating colors with shapes,
Recalling the pleasing play of light and shadow,
Applying the right expressions,
Riding a bicycle through a narrow path,
Like a drone,
Gazing with blurry eyes in the morning,
Like a night view when crying,
Finding a pleasant place,
When it's time to actually paint,
The texture of the paper,
The smoothness of the pen,
The position of the paint or colored pencils,
The lighting conditions,
And my mood,
Change how I want to paint,
Sometimes the color of the materials I randomly pick
Blends even better than I imagined,
The mood and atmosphere of the painting align perfectly,
Making it enjoyable to paint,
Unintentional lines drawn in the excitement
Give rise to new images,
Various serendipitous outcomes occur,
By the time it's finished,
I wonder what to paint next,
Ideas bubbling up, unable to choose,
Taking a break for a while,
I feel this whole process,
Even when making clothes,
Brings me great joy,
From childhood to now,
Things I love are somehow similar,
Whether it's my nature,
A quirk of my brain's structure,
Evidence of the impact of initial experiences,
Or simply because they haven't become traumatic,
I'll write down my thoughts on this next time.
When drawing a picture,
Any picture,
In my head
Like kneading clay,
Like assembling blocks,
Just like moving a person or a model,
Like arranging flowers,
Moving the shapes that appeared around,
Like mixing paint in water,
Just as shapes can be associated with colors,
As if remembering the comfortable way of light and shadow,
Applying a suitable facial expression
Like riding a bicycle through a narrow road,
Like a drone,
As if gazing at it with blurry eyes after waking up,
Like the night view when I'm crying,
Find a comfortable place
When it comes time to draw
The material of the paper you draw on,
The smoothness of the pen,
Paints and colored pencils - the position of art materials,
The lighting condition,
By mood,
How I want to draw has changed
The color of the art supplies I happened to pick up
It fits in better than I imagined,
The mood and the atmosphere of the painting match perfectly.
I can draw comfortably,
I got carried away and drew unnecessary lines
Bringing new images to life,
Many things turned out fine
By the time it's finished
What should I draw next?
They just keep coming up, I can't decide
Take a break
This series,
I felt this while making clothes,
Because it's so much fun to make,
From my childhood until now,
The things we like are similar
Is it sex?
Is it a quirk of the brain structure?
Is this evidence of the strength of the first shock?
Is it just because it hasn't become a trauma?
I'll write here what I think next time