POOLUCKAS

 

So much of your day is already dictated, the have to do’s, the commute, the work. Early morning though is yours, all be it brief. You look at some art, ideas flow in you head, you want to see them come alive. You pull open your art studio door, grab a few of the burgeoning art tools and go for it. This is not an hours long affair, it is all about quick, fast, let it rip. Freedom the rest of the day won’t have. Art brush pens are so good for this. They never produce fine art, nothing approaching real paint and fine brushes. Some illustrators work wonders with them. For the rest of us, they are just slashes of color on paper. You play with a blank sheet of paper, making marks here and there. Your hand wanders, filling in colors. You get silly, even stupid in your efforts. Standing back, your not sure what you have. It’s certainly not a Picasso or Jackson Pollock. You decide to call them Pooluckas, a gathering of spirit if you will, maybe art, maybe not. They are yours though. You are happy.