I can't show you what I've been furiously working on, ignoring hunger pangs and ringing phones for, leaving blogging undone, laundry unfolded, the dog unwalked and Mark eating Crispix for dinner --- but I can show you the aftermath. You'll have to wait until May to see the fruits of this disaster. I'll give you a hint.....it's a whole bunch of fabulous (OK, that part is subjective but the whole bunch is quantifiable) applications for 1.5 x1.5 Bazzill chips. Stay tuned.
Yikes. I made sure all my paints, inks, glues and dark chocolate brownies were covered and gave up. I'll have to excavate tomorrow.
In the foreground you'll see one of my most important artistic materials. You can't hear the Michael Buble, Frank Sinatra, or Mel Torme in the background, the mission-critical soundtrack to make a mess by.
This is a "work" surface. It looks like Dick Blick threw up in here.
Imagine what goodies I'll find when I put everything away. Here are the admittedly rushed tiles for the last few days as my time has been spent making myself a prime candidate for Clean Sweep. I did them, though, one a day. I didn't cheat. Really. I couldn't, despite really wanting to blow it off and make two the next day. I know, you want to be me when you grow up, write my name in on the Presidential ticket next year.
2 comments:
What's wrong with Crispix for dinner?
Cooky
I wrote your name in for President last election, but it got nixed due to a "hanging chad" here in Florida.
Maybe Ralph Nader can be you V.P. - or Hillary...... Nah!
Dad
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