I just wasn’t feeling it today at all. It’s not surprising, and I am not going to be hard on myself, because the world is overwhelming just now for those of us who are paying attention.
I did do art, even though I just couldn’t settle down to anything, but it felt like a desperate attempt to find something that just wasn’t there, or a scraping, grasping, frantic attempt to connect to something resembling peace.
So there are some pages of texture, some pages of collage fodder made with a gel plate, and some sketchbook work, but there is no feeling of satisfaction.
And that’s OK. It’s part of the larger rhythm. It fits in with the context of living in the UK and feeling powerless about it all, and compared to the people being targeted just now, I am immensely privileged and relatively safe.
Here’s one of my sketchbook pages from today.
Til the morn,
Suzanne
170/200
Thrummie Bizzum 
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